To A Place That Still Shines
by SlvrSoleAlchmst1
Summary: In the space of time between SEED and SEED Destiny, Yzak Joule is met with a series of challenges that, if handled badly, could destroy his military career forever. Dearka Elsman has defected from ZAFT, and back at the PLANTs, he must face the Council....
1. PHASE 00

_Author Note: I've had this story in my head for ages, and I feel silly that I've only just started to work on it. It's going to fill in the space between Gundam SEED and Gundam SEED Destiny from Yzak Joule's POV. If I've done my job well, it'll stick close to canon and fit almost seamlessly. _

_This first bit is a brief prologue — it glosses over the final few episodes of SEED at a swift pace. I felt such a prologue was necessary because SEED's last episodes are action-packed and fast-moving; it's difficult to follow the general course of events, never mind what characters like Yzak and Dearka were up to at each moment. This is meant to work as both a memory jog and a way of plumping up what was already present in the canon, and then I'll move into my main plot line. (That ought to be a better read, haha.) Enjoy yourselves, dear readers.  
_

_

* * *

  
_

Yzak's hands shook over the Duel's controls. His ragged breathing echoed around the cockpit. It was loud, too loud in the sudden quiet, and lights blinked and blipped that meant nothing to him in his haze. The imprints of mushroom clouds bloomed behind his eyelids when he squinted them shut. So many nuclear missiles aimed at the PLANTs, but they hadn't hit; they hadn't hit…. The GENESIS had been fired in retaliation, but that had been awful too…. Yzak's heart pounded and his mobile suit drifted in space. The Duel was out of power, but he wasn't moving to retreat and recharge. He opened his eyes again and sweat dripped down from his brow, clouding his vision. Flashes of his previous actions battered him one by one as they sunk in, delayed in coming until now.

He was… alive. Yes, he was still fighting. He'd protected that rose-colored Strike, and managed to take out one of the three Earth Forces pilots, but his assault armor had been destroyed in the blast. On top of that, he'd flung himself head-on into twice the danger when a spike-backed, unidentified mobile suit tore the Buster to shreds….

"Yzak? Yzak!"

The Buster had been cornered by the time _another_ of the psychotic Earth Alliance pilots reared his head. Yzak had shoved Dearka's mobile suit aside and seized its rifle to blast apart the black-and-red Raider….

"Yzak, come in, damn it!" Dearka's voice rang loud over the airwaves.

Yzak's hands were still shaking, but he released the Duel's controls, fingers stiff. He had to keep it together. There was the present to think about. Was it too late to help the rest of his forces? His Phase Shift was down. He couldn't fight anymore….

There was only one thing left he was able to see to, and that was Dearka. If they didn't get shot down in more crossfire, perhaps he could bring the blond back to a ZAFT ship and get him patched up while he recharged his own mobile suit. Yzak clamped down on the thought and used it to haul himself back to stable ground.

"Dearka, I'm here. Respond immediately — what is your condition?" Yzak heard a forced chuckle, and waited with bated breath.

"Alive, but with a head injury that won't stop bleeding."

There was a pause in which Yzak's stomach did a turn at the realization that he had just _saved_ Dearka Elsman, when not hours before he had aimed a gun at him on the Mendel Colony. Dearka, _alive?_ He'd given Dearka up for dead. The notion struggled to sink in; Yzak's mind fought to adjust, but the adrenaline of battle still coursed through him and his thoughts could not keep up. He was shaking again.

"Yzak… I need to get back to the Archangel."

The silver head's blood continued to pound. Dearka's statement barely registered. The flagship of the Three Ship Alliance? The Earth Forces runaway, the legged ship, the Archangel. Yzak located it on his navigation system with unsteady fingers. Dearka wanted to go _there?_ Still? That ship was nothing but a target! Would the blond stand by it, even now? Yzak knew Dearka was waiting for a response from him, but he couldn't find it in himself to speak. That Dearka was alive… was going to be okay….

"Yzak, come with me."

Yzak faltered, his Coordinator pride kicking in to steer while his other emotions battled uselessly. "Wh—? Elsman, I'm _not_ going with you to the legged ship."

"We can't do anything more here, and I'm not safe anywhere but there," Dearka pressed. "I need medical attention, and both our mobile suits are too damaged to go far. The Kusanagi and the Eternal won't be able to take us aboard right now because they're engaged in firing on the GENESIS, so… the Archangel is our only shot and we'll both be safe there. You come, too."

The Buster began to inch away from him. Yzak's head whirled. What was this Dearka was spouting? Names of unfamiliar ships, with a voice full of something desperate and commanding — something action-driven that had never been present in his tone before….

Dearka's yell echoed. "Yzak, damn it!" The colored lights of explosions in the distance illuminated the urgency of their situation.

The silver head braced himself and swallowed. "Okay, Dearka. Okay. But only for a moment." He held tight to the broken Buster and they drifted toward the legged ship.

— x —

"I can't stay here." Yzak paced the suspended bridge in the Archangel's hangar, staring up at their two mobile suits. The Buster and Duel had been docked and set to charging. The Duel, being tended to by a team of scurrying Naturals in the bowels of the very ship he'd spent his military career chasing with intent to kill!

It was ludicrous.

"Dearka, where are they? Someone is coming to help you, right?" Yzak paced, keeping his hands tight in fists. Nothing hit him without seeping through a wall of adrenaline first. His rush had not abated, and each progression of events felt like running through fire blind. "I don't like not knowing what's going on out there. If they ever caught me on this ship, Dearka, if Commander Le Creuset were to find out that I… that I—"

"That you helped me?" Dearka finished coolly, and Yzak halted his pacing to meet the blond's violet eyes. Dearka was looking at him with a sort of pity that Yzak had never seen, never known him to possess the capacity for, and Yzak never wanted to see such a look directed at him again.

"Elsman," he said decisively, "I'm going back out there. Chairman Zala wants to fire the GENESIS again. I… I don't necessarily want him to do that, but I'm a member of ZAFT. I can't—" He cut himself off. Was any of this really happening? Too much too quickly, it felt so unreal…. Yzak watched through narrowed eyes as Dearka held a hand to his bleeding forehead and scrutinized him. Dearka Elsman, examining him in such a way — what the hell had the Earth Forces done to him in all the time he'd been away from ZAFT?

"Yzak, I may want to go back when this is over, too."

Yzak twitched at the blond's serious tone. "You? Go back where? To ZAFT? You don't have any place to go back _to_."

For the first time, Dearka looked away from him, choosing to focus instead on the metal mesh floor of the hangar bridge they waited upon. In that instant, Yzak regretted his words. It was true — Dearka of the Le Creuset Team had been considered MIA, but now that he was confirmed alive, and with the enemy, no less… so he was a traitor.

But that didn't mean that even Yzak needed to cast him aside, did it?

"The Archangel is a renegade ship," Dearka said after a moment. "If GENESIS fires on Earth, the Three Ship Alliance loses, and it'll likely be destroyed. If Lacus Clyne comes through and the fighting stops, well, there'll be a lot more responsibility ahead to take care of. Either way, I don't think I want to be part of it."

Yzak's mouth fell open, and he gripped the railing in front of him, hard. Hadn't Dearka given his new allegiance to Clyne and her followers? "You coward," he cried. "Do the people on this ship know you're planning to leave?" What… what in bloody hell was going on in his former teammate's head?

"I don't see it as a cowardly decision, or a traitorous one," Dearka said slowly, running a hand through his matted hair. At last, a gesture Yzak was familiar with. The silver head clung to it like a lifeline while the Buster pilot continued. "It's just that I'm still not sure what I'm fighting for. I know I don't like what ZAFT is doing now. But I don't like what the Earth Forces have done, either. I stayed here because there's someone — an old friend of Athrun's — that asked if I wanted to find the answers like he did. But he and Athrun, they've already made their decisions. I don't understand them or know whether I agree. I still need some time to figure it out, mull over what I've done and what I _can_ do… and I think the people on this ship would understand why I can't do it here no matter what the outcome of this war is." Yzak stared at him incredulously. "I'm not sure ZAFT is the place to do it either, but…."

_But what?_ Yzak wanted to ask, but the question was disencouraged by his failure to comprehend Dearka's outpouring in full. He didn't understand where the blond's thoughts had sprung from….

There was a tremor underfoot; the legged ship had taken a hit. At last, Yzak could see a medical team making its way up to where they stood in the hangar. Dearka would be tended to. Dearka would be safe.

Yzak looked the blond in the eye. "When this is over, Elsman, you're coming back with me." His voice cracked, and Dearka was looking at him with that dim display of pity again, but Yzak ignored both things. "Get taken care of. See to what you need to see to and don't let the captain of this ship get you killed. I'm going out in the Duel again, but I'll come back for you."

"Yzak—"

"You don't have the luxury of time to decide," Yzak barked, propelling himself over the bridge and toward his mobile suit in the anti-gravity. "If you want to come back even a little, then I'm going to be your only chance! Anyone else might just let you die." He left Dearka to the medics and floated past the Naturals that meandered around, mending wires and hauling bits of scrap metal. For him to have even set foot on this vessel….

He nodded to the worker that stepped aside for him when it became clear that Yzak intended to depart. His cockpit hatch sealed itself shut and he closed his eyes.

— x —

The GENESIS had been destroyed? It was supposed to have fired, but instead, it had self-destructed. How—?

He didn't have time to get the details. He didn't have time. It had been Patrick Zala himself that entered the codes that would aim GENESIS for North America, and that had been unbelievable. Yzak Joule didn't like to think that any Coordinator — even an angry and vengeful one like the Chairman — would do such a thing under the circumstances. Hadn't ZAFT already won? But the Chairman had acted, and had lost, and so those that had supported him were going to be—

"Yzak, I can't go yet! Yzak, are you listening?" Muffled voices coming through behind Dearka from the Archangel's bridge. The blond had talked the CIC into allowing him to make a connection.

Yzak's response was shrill. "Dearka, you don't understand what this means for ZAFT! The commander was the one in that mobile suit the Freedom was fighting. He's dead! I have to go, and I have to take you with m—"

"No one here knows what happened yet either! We don't know if the Orb Princess or Athrun and Kira are alive!" Dearka's shouts were desperate. "Athrun tried to blow up the Jus—"

Yzak's fist hit the arm of his chair inside the Duel's stifling cockpit. There was no _time…._ "Then Dearka, I can't wait for you, I have to go, I have to go…."

A groan. "But Yzak—"

"Dearka, Eileen Canaver took action as soon as she learned what the Chairman did…. The Chairman was _assassinated_ by another official inside ZAFT, never mind that it was too late to stop him by then!" Yzak was already turning the Duel around. "The Chairman and all his supporters… my mother — Canaver and her men won't like it. They're going to go after her, after my—" His voice caught in his throat.

A moment of radio silence, then a near-inaudible curse. When Next Dearka spoke, it was in a whisper. "Okay, Yzak. I understand the situation. I'm launching in the Buster, but I may need help since my machine's a wreck. Wait for me."

Yzak forced the control back into his voice, relief and astonishment mingling as one. "Will you tell them that you're leaving?"

"…No."


	2. PHASE 01

_Author Note: This is a shorter first chapter than I expected it to be. O_o_

_

* * *

  
_

Yzak Joule grappled with the top clasp on his ZAFT uniform, cursing when he missed it for the third time. This wasn't good. He needed his head; he couldn't afford to get tired or distracted. He had collapsed immediately and slept for three hours and now it was time to act. He should have known they would never get past the first level of security….

He clicked the clasp into place.

He and Dearka had flown unnoticed for half the journey back, their ragged mobile suits drifting undetected past the wreckage of Jachin Due. But that was as far as their luck had extended.

Yzak buckled on his stiff white belt as he thought back over the incident, and then gritted his teeth at the clock on the bedside table. He had managed to get Dearka inside the PLANTs, at least. He hadn't been stupid enough to take even _that_ accomplishment for granted. He had five minutes left by the digital clock face, and then he could go see what it all had come to.

They'd been surrounded almost immediately upon nearing PLANT territory — by a rugged band of ZAFT mobile suits and a partial fleet of warships. The commander of the fleet had been jumpy and tired sounding. Now, in the privacy of his room, Yzak released an ironic laugh at the depleted show of force the incomplete fleet had presented. It was the wrong time for ZAFT to be showing weakness — after such a battle they ought to remain strong — but Yzak had known enough to refrain from saying so when he was still inside the Duel. Instead, he'd offered up identification when it was demanded. They'd confirmed him, but been less than happy to see he'd brought back some sort of refugee in the Buster's battered cockpit….

Yzak had lied his ass off to the ZAFT military. He'd needed to get back inside the PLANTs and see what was happening; he'd needed to get Dearka somewhere safe before Dearka was recognized, and yet… fate had still been unwilling to make the task easy. Yzak reached to the footwear sprawled on his floor. He tugged on one white boot, then the other, glancing again at the bedside clock.

"_Of the Le Creuset team, was it?"_

"_Yes, sir."_

"_And in the other machine?"_

"_The member of the legged ship's crew that was piloting it. I thought it might be prudent to recapture this machine for ZAFT, even if at the moment it's no longer fit for operation."_

"_So you've taken the pilot as well."_

"_I will claim full responsibility for the situation, sir."_

"_Taking the mobile suit was a shrewd move, but considering the standstill that we've been forced into, taking hostages may not be the best idea. The Earth Forces have not formally retreated."_

"_I'm aware of that. I had no intentions of holding the pilot hostage or filing him as a POW when I captured his mobile suit. We can treat him like a refugee."_

_"You don't have the authority to make that kind of distinction, and neither do we. We'll run it by headquarters. For now, we'll have to hold that suit's pilot at the docks."_

And so Dearka had been detained, while Yzak himself was given full clearance, and provided immediately with access to a barracks room in which to rest, shower, and don a clean red uniform. After some argument, he'd been granted permission to re-enter the docking bay after four hours had elapsed; the Buster was being detained there, and protocol required at least a few hours of inspection before access was allowed to outsiders.

Yzak stared at the clock until his eyes began to water. Two more minutes, and then he could make his way down….

But Yzak was no fool. By then it might be too late. If any official discovered that it was Dearka Elsman they held in check, when last anyone knew Elsman was supposed to be a prisoner of the Earth Forces, or dead…. Yzak would be punished for lying, but Dearka's fate would be worse. Dearka had turned traitor, and no one did that without facing severe consequences. Yzak's only hope was that ZAFT was in such a state of chaos after the GENESIS mess that personnel with real authority and knowledge would be too busy to investigate the Buster's pilot. Still, this was the Coordinator military, and not a force to be underestimated….

To hell with it.

Yzak barreled out of the barracks room a minute early, readjusting his sleeve cuffs as he strode briskly through the halls. He needed to have faith in Dearka, that was all. Hopefully, the blond had learned something in all his time away from ZAFT forces; Yzak liked to believe the blond had become shrewder, better at keeping secrets. But of course, he hadn't clapped eyes on Dearka for months. Not until they'd faced off at the Mendel Colony. He had given Dearka Elsman up for dead. Who could guess what the blond would do after so much had changed?

Yzak slowed his pace in the hall, as once again reality threatened to hit him and his torrent of determination showed signs of abating. No — he couldn't let that happen. It wasn't over, it was nowhere _near_ over, and there was no room for doubt or anxiety. He'd only just made it back to Aprilius One, and there was so much he didn't know yet…. What of the Council, of Canaver and her cohorts? Where was his mother, Ezalia Joule, and what penalty did she face for her allegiance to the Chairman that had tried to destroy every Natural that lived? Yzak needed to check on Dearka, do what he could… then he needed to leave the military port and head for the center of the PLANT, where the higher officials would be making new arrangements and trying to compensate for war losses. He'd get his answers there.

But for now… Dearka….

"Yzak. Yzak Joule." A female voice called his name; there were suddenly footsteps behind him.

Yzak whirled to take in the appearance of the interruption. He saw first the standard red uniform of the elites, ironed to a crisp and worn conventionally. She was expressionless, nondescript, formal, and she possessed an attitude and approach unlikely to induce headaches or provoke disorder after long periods of exposure. Yzak gave her a quick salute. At least it was no one too irritable.

"Shiho Hahnenfuss," he said. He turned again to proceed down the hall, knowing that she would follow him. He had fought beside her during a brief period on the Vesalius. The Le Creuset Team had found its members much depleted after Nicol's death, Dearka's disappearance, and Athrun Zala's transfer, and so Shiho had been sent to the front lines to make up for lost talent. When Yzak had been given command of his own squad for a brief period toward the end of the fighting, he had hand picked Shiho as a member. But he'd never taken the time to learn anything other than the statistics that highlighted her abilities with a mobile suit. They walked a few steps in silence. Shiho's chestnut hair trailed out behind her as she hurried to keep up.

"Eileen Canaver and the other council members request your immediate presence," she said after a moment. Yzak considered the information, glad that Shiho knew how to get to the point, but he said nothing. The Council could wait. They rounded a corner and followed the signs that pointed toward the docking bay.

Shiho was silent a moment longer, but after a few more steps, she piped up a second time. "This isn't the way to the Council meeting room, you know." Her flat tone said she had already determined his intention to disobey orders and did not approve.

Yzak scoffed at her frown. "I wasn't aware they had ZAFT reds running errands for the higher ups. There's something else that requires my immediate attention, Hahnenfuss. You can run back and relate that message or you can make yourself useful by telling me what's happened to Ezalia Joule."

Shiho's disparaging frown lifted somewhat, replaced by a lesser frown of puzzlement. Whatever piqued her curiosity, she refrained from asking about — out of respect, Yzak liked to think. Any decent ZAFT soldier was expected to avoid nosiness regarding their fellows and commanders. One didn't ask questions unless they were constructive, or relevant to an objective. Let Shiho analyze him; Yzak would offer her no further explanation of his intentions. He smirked inwardly and waited for her information.

"Ezalia Joule has been put under house arrest."

He mastered his discomfort upon hearing the news. "Is that all?"

"No. It's been declared that you are not allowed to see her under any circumstances until you report to the Council." Shiho kept her eyes straight ahead.

Yzak cursed aloud, unable to help himself. It seemed the Council had already predicted his main course of action upon reaching the PLANTs. So be it, and damn them all. He'd simply readjust. It didn't matter when he saw his mother, as long as she was safe. Ezalia Joule was strong, and house arrest would not hold a woman of his mother's caliber back for long. This gave Yzak more leave to take care of Dearka, so it was by no means a reason to lose his composure. He rounded another corner with Shiho and fixed his eyes on the guarded doors at the end of the next hallway.

"Am I to accompany you to the docking bay?" Shiho asked, slowing her pace and respectfully stepping behind him.

"Unnecessary," he responded. Shiho stopped walking and Yzak continued on.

The girl called hesitantly from behind him. "I suppose you don't want me to tell the Council where you went instead of reporting to them?"

Yzak answered without turning back. "You're clever, Hahnenfuss." Her heard her boots clicking off in retreat as he neared the guards at the door. "Yzak Joule, requesting to see the detainee that came in with me earlier."

They let him in without much questioning. Yzak entered the sliding doors and emerged into a world of bustling mechanical activity. He strode down the pedestrian path at the edge of the docking arena, past long, iron extensions where incoming ships were secured while minor repairs and resupplying took place. Crew disembarked for meetings with the Council, or lounged about in the few areas blocked off for recreational purposes. Small work vehicles zipped to and fro on the ground between vessels, carrying mechanics or military officials, but more often than not they drove laden with spare parts and rations. Yzak watched a last-minute inspection taking place on Dock Twelve, where a Laurasia class ship was preparing for take-off.

Everyone moved with purpose, with confidence. Yzak knew that all men and women with duties on Aprilius One's docking bay worked at a high efficiency rate; the home PLANT of the Supreme Council would accept nothing less. Yzak scanned the area, squinting at the sparks that flew where a team of welders crouched, repairing the side of a dropship, and then he found what he was looking for.

The mobile suits were docked in the far distance, row upon row of them, lined up before a series of garages where they could be taken in one at a time for repairs or custom jobs. For an instant, Yzak was surprised to see mostly GINNs. Then he remembered that he was on the PLANTs, in space, and the machines he'd grown accustomed to docking with in places like Carpentaria and Gibraltar would be useless in space combat. It was strange to be home after so long, but he was grateful. He scanned a stretch of GINNs as he walked — Tactical Air Reconnaissance types equipped with Mirage Colloid systems, Long Range Reconnaissance types, High Maneuver types and Trainers. But where was the Duel? The Buster? Yzak frowned, reassuring himself that their mobile suits would be taken care of. Perhaps they were already being worked on inside one of the garages, or had been transported to a separate hangar for more intense repairs….

Yzak neared the opposite end of the pedestrian walkway. Two iron arches marked the entrance to a series of rooms and temporary holding facilities that honeycombed themselves in their own corner of the docking area. Sometimes ZAFT used them to house refugees, or to put up soldiers on nights when the barracks experienced an overflow of personnel. Occasionally they were made into makeshift emergency rooms, when casualties were severe enough that making it to a real hospital was impossible. More rarely, the rooms had been used to detain prisoners of war or ill-behaved ZAFT soldiers while the Council figured out what to do with them. Yzak passed beneath one of the arches and to a window where an attendant waited with an electronic directory to assist visitors. As he reached her, he heard his name called.

"You must be Yzak Joule? I believe you're looking for the pilot you brought back with you? Please allow me to be of immediate assistance."

Yzak looked the man over once, and his insides went cold. The silver head had never seen the speaker before; he was tall and fair-haired with glasses and a thin mustache, but he was unmistakably dressed in the navy blue uniform of the Supreme Council.

Yzak wiped his face clean of emotion and saluted. "Sir, assistance would be greatly appreciated. With whom do I have the honor of speaking?"

"I'm Jack Andres, and I've worked alongside your mother on the Council more than once. It's a pleasure, Yzak." Andres began walking, and Yzak followed him through the maze of whitewashed halls and rooms. "You've heard about Ezalia's house arrest, I would assume? It's… regrettable, but until we reach a state of stability here in the PLANTs, I'm afraid there's not much hope of changing the situation. They think your mother may still want to uphold Patrick Zala's ideals, you see." Andres peered at him, but Yzak refrained from offering a reply. Did Andres mean to separate himself from those that believed his mother had ill intentions?

Within moments, Andres was knocking at a door fit with iron bars across its window. Yzak blinked. Not here, surely…?

The door swung open, and they were greeted by a petty officer in a green coat. "Councilman Andres, Mr. Joule. We've spent the past four hours attempting to debrief the detainee."

"And?" Andres inquired.

"He refused to cooperate in giving us details, but in the end it made no difference. The one piece of information he did provide us with was his name, which is quite enough to go by, and I trust that you two will want to take over after you discovery his identity."

Yzak stood frozen in the hallway. No, it couldn't be possible that Dearka had given up his true identity….

"His name is?" Jack Andres demanded impatiently.

"He's Dearka Elsman, sir — son of Councilman Tad Elsman and former member of the Le Creuset team, recorded as MIA after a battle with the Earth Alliance Forces on an island outside the Tropic of Cancer."

"Good grief," Andres said. "Is that—? Then, he piloted his mobile suit for the enemy? Councilman Lambert is not going to like this…." But Yzak Joule was no longer listening to Andres or the green-clad soldier. He pushed his way inside the holding room.

"Dearka!"

The blond looked up from the chair he was bound to, finding Yzak from beneath matted bangs and grinning around a bruise that bloomed from his lip to his jaw. "Yzak, about time."

Yzak glanced hurriedly at the doorway, where the green-coat had begun to speak again. "What's going on here? Your name, why did you—?" But too soon Andres was coming in the door himself, to see the detainee. Yzak clapped his mouth shut and stood at attention, heart beating a tattoo that he feared would echo through the empty holding chamber.

"Well, this is certainly unexpected," Andres began slowly, nearing Dearka and squinting down at him in disbelief. Yzak risked a glance at Dearka as well. The blond still sported his flight suit; it was caked with blood and sweat. The bandages on his head that had been put there by the Archangel's medical team boasted a red tint now, and needed to be changed, badly. Dark circles ringed his eyes…. When was the last time Dearka had slept? The blond Buster pilot had come in directly from the aftermath of battle, exhausted and uninformed, but they had neither let him shower nor allowed him to sleep….

"ZAFT was under the impression that the Earth Forces had captured your machine from you," Andres addressed the blond, and Yzak bit his lip to keep silent. "Now it's become clear that they captured you as well… alive… and you went turncoat? You piloted your machine for the enemy forces? You fought against ZAFT."

Yzak looked away, his hands closing into fists. He sensed Dearka flinch.

"How did they manage to sway you, Mr. Elsman? Or did you not have a choice in the matter? After all, the Buster was originally their machine…. Perhaps they forced you to pilot it? Took advantage of your Coordinator abilities? For your sake, I would hope that was the case."

Andres waited patiently, but when Dearka offered nothing, the officer in green stepped forward to land him a blow to the face. "Even if you're no longer loyal to us, you ought to show some respect and answer the Councilman."

"Stop!" Yzak cried, moving half a step in Dearka's direction before he could help himself. It was all his fault, for bringing Dearka here without a plan….

"Yes — physical violence is unnecessary," Andres said with a frown. "Now, Yzak — Elsman was a teammate of yours, and I would imagine a friend. You must be relieved to find him alive, whatever the circumstances."

Yzak could not meet the man's spectacled gaze. He averted his eyes and his response left him a whisper. "Yes."

"Well then, the situation is settled for now." Andres waved a hand to dismiss the green-coated officer. "Yzak Joule, you are in charge of the detainee until I can alert the Council of these proceedings. See to his care." Yzak nodded, and Jack Andres moved to the door. "And for the love of ZAFT, please remember to report to Eileen Canaver." He left.

Yzak released the breath he had been holding.

Dearka stirred. "Yzak…."

Yzak moved to free the blond from his bonds. "Shut up," he said, as he took the knotted ropes in his hands with his whole body trembling. "Just shut up for now, Dearka."


	3. PHASE 02

Yzak pinched the bridge of his nose. "Go over it for me one more time," he said. "You told me some of it… when I met you at the Mendel Colony, but back then, I…." He heard Dearka sigh over the hiss of shower water.

They were in another honeycombed section off the docking arena; they had found a wing that was empty of other occupants, and Dearka was finally cleaning up in one of the stalls there. It afforded little privacy, so Yzak had positioned himself outside the stall door to keep watch and to discourage anyone that may happen by from asking questions. He leaned against it with his back, facing away from where Dearka's chest and shoulders peaked over the barrier. When the blond splashed the wrong way, Yzak could feel droplets reach him, but he didn't move. He wanted to get the story straight.

He had procured a clean red uniform in Dearka's size. The blond had fixed it with a skeptical look at first, but when Yzak had begun cursing, he'd taken the bundle and tucked it beside the shower stall. Yzak liked to think that they'd reached some sort of agreement, to cast off all pretenses, to fall back into normal relations, but Dearka was being impossible.

"I helped them because they needed me," Dearka began again, slower and with an edge to his voice that Yzak couldn't stand to tolerate. "And I couldn't just follow orders with ZAFT looking the way it did. Before I knew it, I was fighting for them. I didn't think the Naturals were so bad, and what ZAFT was doing at the time… what the rest of the Earth Forces were doing at the time… both were wrong."

Yzak removed his hands from his face, lest he massage his own temples away in his frustration. "And Zala decided to do the same thing?"

"Athrun had a friend within the Earth Forces that decided all of them ought to break off from their former allegiances and fight to stop the war, and it was Kira, that Coordinator, who—"

"You made friends with the Strike pilot." Yzak couldn't believe the blasphemy.

"Yzak!" Dearka's shout was irritated.

Yzak groaned and waved a dismissive hand, although Dearka could not see it. "Fine, fine. And the Strike pilot convinced you that you could fight with the rest of them and somehow stop the war. Find _answers_, about what you were supposed to be fighting for. And that's what you did."

The water slowed to a trickle and finally stopped. Steam rolled out of the shower stall as Dearka stretched for his towel. "Yeah, Yzak, that's what I did."

Yzak moved aside as Dearka wrapped himself up and stepped out onto the tile. He folded his arms and fixed the blond with a sneer. "Yeah, well, I just don't understand _why_, Dearka. You say they were fighting to protect themselves, just like us at ZAFT, but that they didn't really _want_ to fight. So why didn't they just _surrender_?"

Dearka shrugged, clearly irritated. "For the same reason that ZAFT didn't? For the reason the Earth Forces didn't?"

Yzak tossed up his hands. "The Earth Forces were crazy! That black legged ship with those three mobile suits—"

"That's why Kira and the others broke off from them," Dearka cut in. "Look, Yzak, I can't explain what made me do it, other than I felt like it was the right thing at the time. The fighting's over now, isn't it? Whether or not Athrun and the others survived, at least we know that much. The fighting escalated too far and ZAFT was being unreasonable with the GENESIS, so now it's—"

Yzak exploded. "Unreasonable?" Dearka took a step back. "They fired _nuclear missiles_ at the PLANTs, Dearka! Our _home_. Just like what they did on Bloody Valentine, only worse, because they would have wiped every single one of us out! And you weren't there to protect the PLANTs, were you? Instead, you were off fighting a battle for Lacus Clyne, a silly little idealist, and you didn't even know if you could stop the war for sure."

Yzak seethed while Dearka considered his words. There was a long moment of silence in which the blond finished toweling off his hair and reached for the clean ZAFT uniform, his face expressionless. He pulled the pants on and then straightened.

"But the fighting _did_ stop," the blond said after a moment. "And the nuclear missiles didn't hit the PLANTs."

Yzak whirled away, hot with ire. How could Dearka be saying these things?

Dearka tugged his teal undershirt on over his damp hair. "And the GENESIS…."

"What about it?" Yzak growled.

"You didn't want it to be fired again either, did you? Even though you were fighting for ZAFT, and destroying all the Naturals was ZAFT's goal, you wouldn't have given the signal if it were you in charge."

All of a sudden, Yzak felt weary. He slumped onto one of the dry benches across from Dearka and dropped his face into his hands. He could feel the outline of his scar beneath his fingertips. "I… no, I didn't want… I-I couldn't believe that the Chairman…."

"So," Dearka said, sinking carefully down beside him on the bench, "Isn't that why you helped me fight out there? Even you must have realized things had gone too far. Our thoughts weren't so different by the time the war reached that point, were they?"

Yzak didn't answer. Yes, damn it, yes they _were_ different, because Yzak hadn't betrayed his own people. Yzak hadn't given up on ZAFT or lost his faith or questioned the validity of the Chairman's viewpoints. But then the Chairman had set Jachin Due to self-destruct and fire GENESIS, and that was more horrible an outcome than anything Yzak had ever wanted…. So was Yzak wrong? Was it really ZAFT that was at fault? Had he been blind not to see it? And what was he to do now, when the friend he thought had always shared his pride and trust in ZAFT was so quick to point out ZAFTs misdeeds and shortcomings?

"…Yzak?"

Yzak mumbled into his hands, for it all seemed to assault him at once. "I didn't know…."

Dearka stiffened beside him on the bench, but made no move to touch or comfort him.

"I didn't even know you were alive, Dearka! And then there you were in the Buster, fighting for _them_, so how was I supposed to see things the way you did? You left, and I didn't have a chance to think about what was happening…." Dearka made some small sound of protest, but Yzak ignored him. "How was I supposed to predict what Chairman Zala would do? The PLANTs are all I've ever known, and I'm a Coordinator! I can't so easily let go of the loyalties I have to ZAFT."

"Yzak…."

His head was beginning to hurt with the whir of thoughts that were finally hitting in quick succession. Until now, Yzak hadn't had time to think over the last phases of the battle. He had only just returned from the fighting….

"And what now, Dearka?" Yzak said, raising his head to glare tiredly at the face of his friend. "What do we do now, with the fighting ended and you back here with ZAFT? They're going to put you on trial, because you told them who you were, and then you're going to have to explain all the idiotic things you've done." Dearka's brow was knitted tight, and on his face was that strange mix of concern and pity and calm again, a swath of emotions that Yzak could not remember having seen on his companion's face when they were teammates. Dearka had changed, of that Yzak was certain. His friend had realigned his belief system, had left him behind, was now forcing Yzak to question everything he thought he knew about the PLANTs and the military system that he'd grown up with.

Dearka leaned back and sighed, his hands behind his head and his feet stuck out from the bench haphazardly. "I guess I'll have to clean up the mess I made, won't I?"

Yzak pursed his lips at the blond's slovenly posture. A familiar display, yet infuriating. "You'll have to clean up more than that when I'm done with you, Elsman. You'll be mopping up your own innards when I rip them out for how you've made my life more difficult."

Dearka raised his eyebrows, and Yzak allowed himself an inward smirk at the blond's surprise. "Are you saying that you want to help me?"

"Don't be a dimwit," Yzak shot, picking himself up from the bench and straightening his collar. "You want to rejoin ZAFT now that it's all over, don't you?" He readied himself for his next comment, but Dearka's response did not come. Yzak blinked.

He fought the panic that threatened to rise in the silence. "Dearka… don't you?"

Dearka raked a hand through his damp hair and held it there, staring distantly at a spot of water on the tile. "The truth is, I don't know."

"You don't know." In an instant, Yzak's hope and patience had shattered. He felt rage begin to shake him. "Then tell me this, Dearka — why did you come back?" Didn't Dearka realize how much trouble he would be in if the Council found out that the traitor showed no sign of remorse?

But the question was not to be answered.

"Joule, Elsman, permission to enter?"

Yzak bit back his wrath and turned to face the voice at the entrance to the shower area. "Permission granted," he barked. "And you are?"

It was another petty officer in green. "Just a messenger, sir. I've orders from Councilman Lambert to escort the detainee to one of the spare rooms until further notice. Also, your presence is requested by—"

"Canaver and her lot, I know," Yzak said wearily, moving toward the door. "Very well. Set up Elsman in his quarters and message the information to my room in the barracks; that's where I'm currently staying." The green coat saluted and exited, waiting for Dearka outside the door. Yzak paused and faced the blond. "I'm not going to let you do anything else stupid, understand? You could ruin both our reputations."

"I know, Yzak," Dearka said softly. "I know."

"I'll speak with the Council. Don't tell them anything else, and if they ask, direct them to me."

"All right." Dearka had stood, but he was still a fair distance away. Yzak moved to go, but without warning Dearka closed the gap between them to grab him by the shoulder. Yzak spun around. "Look. I trust you, Joule, but _you_ have to trust _me_, too." There was a spark of something desperate and earnest in his violet gaze.

Yzak grunted, taken aback, but grateful for Dearka's gesture even if he'd never show it. He removed Dearka's hand with a rough shake. "We'll see," he said, and he nodded to the petty officer on his way out.

— x —

The circle of Council members was abuzz with conversation when Yzak was escorted onto the premises. Locked in debate in groups of two and three around the center console, none seemed to notice his entrance. The silver head strode to the open spot of floor before them all, hands tucked neatly behind his back, waiting. After a moment, a few caught sight of him and fell silent one by one, except for a woman with wavy golden hair to one side. It was Eileen Canaver, and she was deep in discussion with a man Yzak did not recognize. Yzak monitored their faces as they spoke to one another in muted tones, unaware of the hush that had fallen around them. The other Council members respectfully allowed the two to continue talking. Canaver appeared anxious as she gesticulated over a document on the table before her, but the man leaned back in his seat, looking quite composed. Thick, black hair flowed over his shoulders in ripples to his chest in front, and his eyes were a sharp and curious amber.

Yzak looked around the table and caught sight of Jack Andres. The man's glasses flashed in the harsh lighting as he poured over what appeared to be a report, but he looked up when he realized the room had gone quiet. Yzak met his eye and gave a slight nod; it was returned only after Andres glanced pointedly at another Council member across the way. Yzak followed Andres' gaze to a formidable looking man in a white commander's uniform. A high-ranking soldier as well as a committee member, then. Likely the commander of a fleet. Could this man perhaps be Lambert?

Suddenly Yzak realized the silence had fallen in total. He looked back to Eileen Canaver, who had finished her conversation. Her face was unreadable, and she pinned him with her stare.

Yzak saluted. "Yzak Joule of the Le Creuset team, reporting as requested." There was a hum of chuckles that traveled about the room at his introduction.

"I see," Canaver said blithely, and Yzak had to work to keep his face from flushing crimson. "So glad that you've decided to join us." This woman… what did she want from him? Eileen Canaver had been one of Siegel Clyne's biggest supporters before Patrick Zala had risen to power, and then she'd gone into hiding, allegedly to continue her career while escaping prosecution. She was the youngest recorded member of the PLANT Supreme Council, and had fought for peace between Coordinators and Naturals during all of her involvement. It was her men that had placed his mother under house arrest for taking part in the firing of GENESIS. Canaver was rumored to be a kind to a fault, but Yzak knew that if she wanted to crush him, it was within her power now to do so. He held his tongue.

"I hope you have had sufficient rest after the battle you fought?" she asked.

"Enough to sustain me for the time being, ma'am," he responded, and was puzzled to see the ebony-haired man next to her grin slightly in the shadows where he still reclined.

"I shall get immediately to the point. Mr. Joule, we of the Supreme Council are in need of your assistance."

There were a few twitters throughout the council members, but most men and women kept their faces respectfully composed. Through his shock, Yzak noticed that Canaver's hands were clasped tightly before her, knuckles white with something like resolution. He met her gaze with new respect. Surely her position was no easier than anyone else's, in the face of the battle's aftermath? After all, most of the council members had been backing Patrick Zala, and were likely resistant to such a quick change of Coordinator attitude, despite the result of the GENESIS incident….

"There are some members present that think me unwise for requesting your aid," she went on, "and yet others that agree we have something to gain from your insight. There is no doubt that you've shown an enormous amount of skill and bravery on the battlefield."

"Thank you, ma'am," Yzak said, but she held up a hand to keep him silent.

"For the sake of the council members that would doubt you, would you please confirm? You began your true military career at Heliopolis, where you procured the GAT-X102 Duel, and began pursuit of the legged ship and the missing machine the Strike under command of Rau Le Creuset, am I correct?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"The Council has seen the reports of the battles that followed. I would have them note in particular that under Le Creuset's command Yzak Joule has had ample time to build combat experience both in space and in the desert, where he fought under Andrew Waltfeld—"

There was a shuffling of chairs and murmuring voices from one side of the circle, where the white-coated man spoke out to interrupt. "Councilwoman Canaver, Rau Le Creuset is one of the men you condemned for working in close quarters with Patrick Zala. Do you honestly mean to suggest that this boy is a safe candidate for peaceful negotiations between—"

"That's enough, Councilman Lambert," Canaver dismissed, her voice remaining unperturbed. "You will wait until I have finished. Yzak Joule, you have been extraordinarily competent all this time in keeping the machine that was assigned to you… even requesting Assault Shroud armor to enhance your maneuvering and firepower. You have shown good judgment in times of crisis, have proven that you can think freely and successfully take command of your own squadron, and you recently left the battlefield having destroyed two of the three Earth Forces mobile suits that the rest of ZAFT and the Three Ship Alliance had such a difficult time bringing down. There is no doubt that you are highly qualified."

"Ma'am?" Yzak had never before received such praise, but he could not find it in himself to take pride in the list of his accomplishments. His stomach was churning, the other council members were whispering, and he did not like the smug look on the face of the man at Canaver's side. Not to mention that Lambert was glaring at him from beneath pinched, bushy eyebrows a few yards away.

Canaver looked him dead in the eyes. "We would like you to consider taking your mother's place on the National Defense Committee of the Supreme Council until the PLANTs' current objectives have been met," she said. "Martius City needs a representative. I myself will be conducting negotiations on the MacArthur, and will need to be sure there are enough members left behind that will uphold our ideals in my absence."

Yzak gaped. Him? A member of Council?

"Yzak," Andres said, and the silver head turned to face him, swallowing to calm himself, "Our goal here is to reach some sort of agreement with the Earth Alliance. Such a thing is difficult to do when so many of us in the PLANTs still hold grudges against all of Natural kind, and when there are radicals like Patrick Zala that would take distrust and hatred to an unacceptable level of violence. What Eileen Canaver and the rest of us seek to create is a council of neutral-minded men and women that can carry out this task with diplomacy." Yzak nodded his understanding, though his palms were sweaty. What were they asking of him, exactly? "None of us here have any reason to believe that your hostile actions against the Earth Alliance were born of a personal vendetta against the Naturals themselves. You were merely following orders on behalf of ZAFT, are we correct?"

"But he was one of Le Creuset's finest, and _Ezalia Joule_ is the boy's mother!"

"Emilio Lambert, you will hold your tongue!"

Neither Lambert's call of outrage nor Canaver's sharp reproach swayed the gaze that Andres was fixing on Yzak. "Please answer the question, Yzak, and consider our proposal." Yzak shifted a bit on the floor, wishing suddenly that he was not under scrutiny of the entire Supreme Council, or positioned beneath a host of bright lights.

Were they asking him if he held a prejudice against the Naturals? Of course he did! The Naturals had been foolish, persistent, unreasonable in their bloodlust and thirst for war…. Was Canaver asking him to join her in her attempt to make peace with the very people that had fired nuclear missiles at the PLANTs — tried to wipe out the Coordinator race?

Yzak stood there, his heart in his throat. He thought of the GENESIS, and of what Dearka had said on the Mendel Colony, words that were repeated again outside the docking bay just hours before. Extermination had been the goal of _both_ parties, and ZAFT had done its share of wrong as well. Had Yzak been given the chance to stop the firing of GENESIS, would he have done so? And his mother… what had _she_ truly believed when Jachin Due had been set to self-destruct? Was this his chance to find the answers that Dearka had sought, when he left ZAFT to join the Justice and the Freedom?

"Why not give the boy some time to think things over?" Silence fell around the table, and Yzak looked up to find the man with long black hair smiling quietly at him.

"Councilman Durandal, I really must speak against this decision!" Lambert again.

"Nonsense." The man called Durandal was still watching Yzak from under thick bangs. "I believe Yzak merely needs time to consider his options. Surely we can afford him that? After all, he's only just returned from battle and I'm sure it was no menial task, weighing the scales to determine what was right in the heat of the moment. Especially when so many others had lost their sense of direction. Am I right, Yzak?"

Yzak's eyes widened in surprise, but he answered with attention. "S-sir."

"Yzak, this is Councilman Durandal," Eileen Canaver said. "He is stepping in as Chairman temporarily, but many of us hope that when the time is right, he will claim the position as a permanent one." The admiration in her tone was as plain as the earth was blue.

"Oh, goodness no," Durandal shook his head, a small smile still playing about his lips. "I really must insist again that this takeover is only temporary."

"You might as well call yourself the Chairman already," Andres said jovially, his mustache curling up in an approving grin. "You've already shown better judgment than the rest of us." There were murmurs of agreement around the table.

"Gentlemen, and ladies, I really must insist—"

"In any case," Lambert interrupted smoothly, "I believe there was another matter we wanted to bring up with the Joule boy." This time Yzak was grateful for the interruption.

"Ah yes," Durandal replied, and his brow darkened for the first time. "The matter of the Elsman boy's reappearance."

Yzak's felt the color drain from his face. He had expected it to come up, but not in front of the whole Supreme Council, not so quickly…. There was a cry from a section of the table swathed in shadow and Yzak saw an anxious looking man spring up.

"Dearka Elsman, my son?"

Dearka's father….

"Tad, please remain—"

"The Council has received news that he's alive and well? Why was I not informed of this?"

All seemed to be degenerating at the Council table. Eileen Canaver called for order. Lambert protested loudly a whole host of petty things. Yzak felt his shoulders going stiff from the effort it took him to keep his hands neatly behind his back, for no one had yet given him permission to stand further at ease.

"Honestly now," Durandal called over the outburst of angry voices, "Is this the impression that we want to make in front of a prospective new Council member?" Yzak was not sure it was the right thing to say under the circumstances, but Durandal was smiling in his direction again, seeming to project ease and confidence. The others fell silent once more. "Yzak, you brought back a wrecked mobile suit — the GAT-X103 Buster — because it was out of power at the end of the fighting and you wished to reclaim the machine, is that correct?"

Yzak forced his voice not to tremble. "That's correct."

Durandal was not smiling now. His eyes seemed to spark in the light and his gaze shot right through to Yzak's core. "You were quite unaware that its pilot was the same Dearka Elsman that had been piloting the Buster all along?" He sounded skeptical, and perhaps amused.

"I don't believe a word of it," Lambert muttered before Yzak could respond, snorting into his hand as he did so, so that only half the table heard him.

"If I may ask, Emilio," and Lambert seemed to jump at being directly addressed by the stand-in chairman, "Is there some personal grudge you hold against this boy?"

Emilio Lambert colored. "Sir, it's just that Joule and Elsman are former teammates, and I'm not inclined to trust the Joule boy as a member of our Council if he's been consorting with a traitor to the Zodiac Alliance."

Durandal had his elbows on the table and his chin upon his folded hands, exhibiting the patience of a saint as he responded. "But is the Elsman boy a traitor? He defected, indeed, but consider that it was the Three Ship Alliance under Lacus Clyne that he ended up fighting for. A neutral party that sought to stop the war, Councilman Lambert. And is peace of that same sort not the goal we at the PLANTs seek now? You yourself were previously expressing concern that Yzak may display signs of _prejudice_ against the Naturals because of his ties to his mother and to Rau Le Creuset. But surely you can see how, if Yzak has remained good friends with Elsman up to now and Elsman expresses a wish for peace, it is difficult to believe that either boy wants to continue fighting or holding prejudices. Perhaps your own more radical past is hindering you in your judgment now that we talk of treason against ZAFT. If that is the case, I suggest you go back to pretending you are overzealously pro-moderate."

Yzak listened to Durandal speak, suspicious and uncertain, yet awed. Where had this man come from? Had he somehow risen among the chaos of the fighting to sway the Council to his ideals of peace? He knew more than Yzak would have given him credit for, but could he be trusted?

"I think," Durandal said when it was clear that Lambert had been momentarily silenced, "That we've all had enough for today. Yzak Joule, you may consider your course of action over the next two days. Until then, please bring yourself up to date on Council politics and be sure to tend to your machine."

The eleven council members rose and began to disperse. Yzak opened his mouth, but faltered. What of Dearka? Was it wise of him to further linger on the blond's fate in front of men like Lambert, or Dearka's father, Tad Elsman? He had no way of truly knowing whether Dearka was out of danger, and Canaver and Durandal were disappearing through a door in the back of the meeting room….

"Yzak." It was Andres. "Get some rest. I'm sorry to put you through all this so soon."

"Sir, if you don't mind my asking… about Dearka Elsman being held in detainment—"

"I will do my best, but there's not much we can see to at present. The Council is in a state of near chaos, you must understand. The best thing to do is to wait." With that, Andres followed the other council members out.

Yzak relaxed his posture and wiped the sweat from his brow. He felt sick with the vision of the future that had spanned out too fast before him. What was becoming of ZAFT?

* * *

_Author Note: Now that the pace has picked up a bit, what does everyone think of the way I've begun to mesh SEED and Destiny together? When I was writing, I didn't expect to bring Durandal in so soon. But there he was, being perfectly creeptastic as usual.... Gah, I love this story._


	4. PHASE 03

_Author Note: It's occurred to me that now may be a good time to specify where the title of this fanfic comes from._

_It's a piece of Yzak's image song, "Shoot." The song is about endurance in the face of war, pressing on toward what's ahead to forge something beautiful no matter what it takes. "Shoot for the future," it says, and by golly, I wanted to use _that _as the title right there, because it captures the theme of my story perfectly. But that's too obvious. Instead, I took the lyrics that follow immediately after said Engrish._

"…_mada hikaru sono basho e…." It translates to something like, "to a place that still shines," assuming I'm not a total idiot in looking that up, so there you have it. That's the future Yzak hopes to reach one day. A shiny place~!_

…_I'll shut up and let everyone read._

_

* * *

  
_

Yzak rolled out of bed the next morning — sore from battle, still tired, and irritable. He'd eaten in the mess hall the night before, only to return to his room to find paperwork waiting for him. Eileen Canaver had requested that he fill out his field reports as soon as possible, so there he'd holed himself up until after midnight, determined to finish the mindless task and put it out of the way. When he'd slept he'd had nightmares, flashes of beam sabers slicing clean through his Duel, visions of Dearka strapped down for execution by the Naturals. He'd woken in a cold sweat, remained there a moment, and finally risen, cursing himself for his own lack of focus. He didn't have time for things that weren't real.

The first thing Yzak did was contact his mother by video screen.

It took him three tries and a lot of yelling before he was finally allowed access to her channel. Ezalia Joule's face crackled to life at last, and he greeted her with a salute.

"Mother, it's good to see you're well."

They didn't talk long. His mother was relieved to hear that he hadn't been penalized on her account, and there passed a long period of silence when Yzak told her that he'd been asked onto the council in her stead. When she finally responded, her brow was furrowed. "Think long and hard on it, Yzak," was all the advice she gave him. Yzak bit back the temptation to ask her whether or not she had really wanted to aim GENESIS for Earth.

Instead, he asked her about Emilio Lambert.

Ezalia's blue eyes flew wide. "I've never heard his name in my life. Which city does he represent?"

"I wasn't able to obtain that information," Yzak responded, feeling quite inadequate. When he raised the question of Jack Andres, he found his mother knew nothing of him, either.

"How many Council members have they already replaced?" His mother wondered aloud. "Canaver is moving faster than I thought…. Yzak, who rose to act as Supreme Council Chairman? Eileen Canaver must have help. She couldn't be accomplishing all this on her own."

"A man named Durandal is holding the chair," Yzak told her, picturing again the shrewd eyes and long, wavy hair. "I don't know where he came from, mother. Apparently he—" But there his communication was cut off, and an angry purple face filled the screen instead.

"Ezalia Joule is under house arrest and is not permitted to receive knowledge of current Council proceedings," barked a man that Yzak assumed to be in charge of his mother's imprisonment. "Her call lines are being monitored, and this communication breaks her terms of agreement. I will be terminating your connection at once." Yzak's screen buzzed and went black. He slammed his fist against the wall beside it.

What the hell was going on?

He dressed quickly, taking what comfort he could from the routine of pulling on his deep red pants and jacket over his standard ZAFT undergarments. He wanted to question Dearka again, but it was clear there was some information he needed to collect first. Then Yzak remembered his mobile suit. Durandal had told him to take care of his machine…. Did he perhaps suspect that Yzak would be needing the Duel in the future? He left the barracks in a rush, dropped off his field reports, and headed for the mobile suit hangar.

The rows of GINNs that he had seen from the pedestrian walkway the day before were the same GINNs that greeted him now. Yzak was escorted onto the premises in one of the ground vehicles and dropped off at garage twenty eight, at the end of the row. He hadn't made any previous inquires as to the whereabouts of the Buster or the Duel. Yzak did not imagine they would be difficult to locate, and in fact, he did not want to speak to anyone on the way to his machine anyway. He rather looked forward to the one-man journey that would reunite him with the mobile suit that had kept him alive in each battle; he preferred to make his way to it alone, without having his mood spoiled by too many questions about its maintenance and construct.

Between garages eleven and ten, Yzak noticed Shiho Hahnenfuss at the foot of a Tactical Air Reconnaissance unit. She stood engaged in conversation with a mechanic, gesturing between a clipboard in her hand to the left wing of the mobile suit. Yzak's curiosity was piqued. What was someone like Hahnenfuss doing around that sort of GINN? He scanned the area for signs of his own mobile suit, and when he did not find any, he took a detour to where Shiho and the mechanic were standing.

"You mean to tell me that if I fly anywhere with the Colloid technology engaged, an enemy will still be able to catch glimpses of my machine?" Shiho's chestnut brown eyes narrowed. "Why can't it remain fully invisible in flight like the Blitz? At this rate, I'd have done better in my CGUE DEEP Arms unit. How am I supposed to pilot _this_ thing for close-range stealth infiltration if our technology is still—" She cut herself off abruptly when Yzak neared.

"Hahnenfuss," he saluted.

She dismissed the mechanic and returned his greeting cautiously. "Joule. Was there something you needed?"

Yzak ignored her question and stared up at the dark steel plating of the mobile suit. "Interesting that you'd be so vehement in comparing a ZAFT machine to the Blitz," he said. "On the Vesalius, you expressed a distaste for the X Numbers that ZAFT stole from the Earth Forces." She didn't move, and he smirked. "I suppose now that you've seen the limits of a GINN, you can appreciate what someone like Nicol Amarfi was able to do with his machine's technology. I assume you've seen footage of Artemis?"

Shiho's face colored. "ZAFT isn't far behind the Alliance in terms of mobile suit technology these days, and soon we'll surpass them," was all she said, watching Yzak as if she thought he might make a sudden move to gut her.

"I won't ask on whose orders you're here," Yzak replied, and Shiho relaxed her defensive posture, "but I want you to answer a few questions for me."

The brunette scanned him up and down. "About what?"

"About the current state of affairs in the Council." Yzak waited. It was worth a shot. Shiho had been on the front lines with him during the final stages of battle, but it was likely that she had been able to return to the PLANTs before he did. If she'd had a chance to witness firsthand the administrative changes that his mother believed had taken place… then he needed to gather the information from her.

Shiho picked up another clipboard — it had been lying near her feet — and began to peruse it carefully. "What do you want to know?"

Yzak watched her making checkmarks on the board and glancing repeatedly from paper to mobile suit. "Lambert and Andres. Who are they? I haven't been able to keep up with PLANT politics."

Shiho paused in her checklist and fixed him with a curious squint. "I suppose you haven't. Andres is the representative for November City. He's a member of the Judicial Committee, somewhere between neutral and moderate."

Yzak nodded. So, Andres was a supporter of peace and compromise between Coordinators and Naturals.

Shiho walked around the left leg of her GINN. "Andres replaced former representative Parnell Jesek when Jesek was killed on Jachin Due. Jesek worked in industrial engineering, and was there to help oversee the changing of the mirror panels each time GENESIS was fired… much against his will as a member of the moderate political faction, I would imagine." Yzak remembered his mother mentioning Jesek in the past, and felt sick as he was again reminded of Patrick Zala's final act, but Shiho went on without emotion. "As for Lambert, the other Council members chose him to represent October City after they voted out Herman Gould. Gould was a radical and hated the Naturals, but Lambert promised he would take Gould's place on the National Defense Committee with an open mind toward negotiating for peace with Canaver and the rest."

Yzak stood brooding with his hands crossed over his chest, and Shiho paused in her work to watch him. "Why exactly do you need to know this? There's hardly a reason to follow PLANT politics when all the arrangements are transitional. Things are bound to keep changing, at least until a formal peace treaty is signed. They're not even a full council of twelve. Martius City no longer has a—" She stopped, seeming to remember that the representative for Martius City had been his mother.

Yzak responded sharply, annoyed at being lectured while he mulled over the information. "To satiate your burning curiosity, Hahnenfuss, I need to know because I've been asked in as the new representative for my mother's city."

Shiho's mouth dropped open, and for a moment all she could do was splutter. "Wh-what? You? B-but why?"

Yzak leaned menacingly against the opposite leg of her mobile suit. "Is there a problem with that?"

For a further minute, Shiho's mouth opened and closed, as if she struggled to emit sound with dysfunctional vocal chords. Her eyebrows wove together in the center, and at last she launched into the outburst she had been debating over releasing aloud. "Yes! Yes there _is_ a problem with that, and it's not just because you're only a pilot like me and lack the necessary experience to act as a member of the Supreme Council!"

"I'd like to know what knowledge _you_ have of the Supreme Council," he said dryly.

"Don't you see what's happening to the PLANTs?" Shiho began furiously gripping her clipboard and pacing to and fro beneath the shadow of her mobile suit. "The Naturals only stopped attacking because GENESIS was destroyed, and because by then casualties on both sides were at a record high! But they could still have nuclear weapons. We don't know whether or not they truly want to end the fighting the way we do. The PLANTs are doing everything they can to show goodwill toward the Earth Alliance so that the Naturals won't feel threatened enough to attack again. Council members like Eileen Canaver know that this balance cannot be upset. We don't want to be attacked any more!"

"What's your point, Hahnenfuss?" But Yzak was certain he already knew it. Did Shiho too think he might be like his mother? Radical enough in his dislike of Naturals that he would seek to provoke _more_ conflict instead of forestall or eliminate it?

"It will take more than a pop singer and Zala's son in a heisted mobile suit to win the Earth Forces over," Shiho grated. "Does the Council know that you're just the type of radical thinker they need to avoid right now? I _saw_ you, Joule, on the Vesalius under Le Creuset. The commander was bloodthirsty and obsessed. I served under him because I didn't have a choice, but you were the man's number one pet, and no one was as bold as you when it came to taking the Naturals down."

"My my, it seems I've chosen the wrong time to make my appearance."

Although some part of Yzak's brain registered the entrance of Councilman Durandal and two of his cohorts, the silver head could not find it in himself to salute or speak a greeting. He stared at the affronted Shiho Hahnenfuss, her face still flushed, her hands in fists on her clipboard, stray pieces of her bangs out of place. Yzak could not remember ever wanting to strike a woman so badly. He refrained from moving, but his blood boiled. To call him obsessed, like Commander Le Creuset….

"Shiho, I believe your outburst at Yzak may have been unwarranted…."

But Yzak still was not listening to Durandal's words. Why? Why was his pride in ZAFT, his dedication to the cause under Rau Le Creuset… why was it all being turned against him in the aftermath of battle? He had only followed orders. He hadn't thought the Council would hold him responsible for his mother's actions, and at least some of them — like Canaver and Andres — didn't. But if people like Shiho believed him a hindrance to the PLANTs because of the path he'd taken… what would the _rest_ of the military think if he refused a Council position and asked to remain an elite red? Would they shun him? Refuse to allow him to go out on missions? It was true, Yzak hated the Naturals for what they had done, but wasn't that a perfectly acceptable reaction considering the course the war had taken? Was he expected to roll over for those that had done the PLANTs wrong? No… he would never….

But that didn't mean Yzak wanted all Naturals dead. He had simply acted under pressure to the best of his ability, and now his battle history was reflecting back on him more negatively than he could have predicted.

"In any case, I came to speak with Yzak." Yzak at last acknowledged Durandal's presence with a salute he hoped did not seem insolent. "Yzak, I would assume you are down here looking for the Duel?"

"Yes, sir," Yzak replied, "But I haven't managed to locate where it's being kept yet."

"As expected," Durandal said. His tone was grave. "It appears that the Council has voted for the deconstruction of the X102 Duel… and the Buster as well. I apologize for failing to alert you sooner."

Yzak heard Shiho gasp over Durandal's shoulder, but he could not find it in himself to react with the same theatrics. He felt suddenly faint. "I'm not sure I understand, sir," he said.

"I can only assume that your machine has come to mean very much to you," Durandal mused, turning away to gaze up at the silhouette of the Recon GINN that towered over them. "And with that in mind, I am truly sorry. The council feels that to keep any of the X Numbers would be a decision of the worst kind. Not only did the war escalate and wreak havoc _because_ we stole them, but also, it will become difficult to make peace with the Naturals if we _continue_ to use their technology without their permission."

Yzak's fingers twitched minimally, but other than that, he did not flinch. Shiho was glancing at him between the act of looking down at her clipboard and then over at Durandal guiltily.

"As you can see," Durandal said when he faced Yzak again, "This new machine that Shiho has been assigned is mediocre in comparison, but still one of the finest ZAFT has to offer. Therefore, only the finest soldiers can pilot them. You may have any machine of your choosing, now that the Duel has been taken from you. We are even manufacturing a new model called the ZAKU that you may be interested in when it comes off the assembly lines…. Unless, of course, you choose instead to take up your position on the Supreme Council?"

Now Shiho looked positively flabbergasted, but Yzak could not find the energy to feel smug. "I haven't made my decision on the matter yet, sir."

Durandal's eyes seemed to spark with interest and cunning. "Very well. It is not my intention to rush you. I merely came down to inform you of the Duel's fate. I thought it best to make the call a personal one."

"I appreciate your consideration."

Durandal began his retreat. "Oh, and Yzak? I would visit Dearka Elsman in his detainee quarters with this news, don't you agree?"

"Sir." Yzak's energy drained further at the prospect of telling Dearka that the Buster was to be destroyed. Durandal climbed back into the ground transport vehicle that had brought him across to the hangar, and Shiho avoided Yzak's gaze, gnawing her lower lip.

"Well, Hahnenfuss," Yzak said weakly once the stand-in chairman had gone. "It seems our argument will have to be put on hold."

"Yzak, I didn't mean—"

"Save it," he shot violently, as he began to move briskly toward the back corner of the docking area, to where Dearka waited in his temporary room. "No doubt you'll need that speech of yours to convince the other war veterans that have already risked their lives for ZAFT why it's better to appease the enemy than to defend the homeland. Imagine how good you'll make them feel about their sacrifices. I'm sure the same applies for the soldiers already dead in their graves." He caught a glimpse of the affect his scathing remark had as he strode away. Shiho's pallor had gone pasty. It served her right.

— x —

When Yzak opened the door to Dearka's new holding quarters, he was unsurprised to see the blond lounging atop his bed, reading a magazine. "Just like having downtime on the Vesalius, isn't it?" Dearka said.

Yzak sneered and took a seat at the desk chair. "Clearly the gravity of your situation hasn't sunken in, Elsman."

"Could that be because we're in space?" Dearka grinned and sat up, setting his magazine aside on the table with the lamp and the alarm clock. "What brings you back? You checking up on me, Mr. In-Charge?" He waited a moment, but when Yzak only pursed his lips and glared, the blond tried for a laugh. "Well, whatever it is, you sure don't make it look appealing."

Yzak fell into in analyzing Dearka's features. His gaze traveled over defined cheekbones, a tanned brow creased with near-inscrutable lines of anxiety beneath a sweep of coarse, wavy hair. Deep violet eyes that examined him back. What was Dearka thinking, behind that playful outward demeanor of his? What had he always been thinking, and had he been telling Yzak the truth when he spoke of what it felt like to question motives and allegiances the way he claimed he'd been forced to do on the Archangel?

"Yzak, you're freaking me out." Yzak watched Dearka swallow.

Was it possible that Dearka could help him determine what it was that he believed? Would Dearka sympathize or simply make matters worse?

"It's about your mobile suit," Yzak said at last, to expel the awkward quiet.

No — he couldn't ask Dearka what to do about Shiho's accusations. Dearka would only agree with her, tell him that the route he'd taken had been misguided, that he'd been deceived in his pursuit of justice against the Naturals to the degree that he'd striven for it. That the best choice now was to seek peace…. He watched Dearka's face.

"The Buster? Is it getting repaired? Shit, I wish I could be there. Tell them for me that the left thruster calibration is off by eight point thr—"

"Dearka," Yzak cut in, deciding that the best path was the direct one. "Your machine won't be repaired. The Buster is being scrapped."

All of the blond's muscles seemed to cramp and freeze at once. A painful moment passed in absolute silence, and when Dearka spoke again, his tone was thoughtful, muted.

"Is this because of what I did? How I left ZAFT and piloted my machine for the enemy?" A hand tugged at blond curls. "They're going to destroy my Buster? Damn…. I never thought that…."

"It isn't just the Buster," Yzak stated coolly. Dearka looked up, shock and horror beginning to dawn on his countenance. "They're taking the Duel, too."

"The Duel? But what for?" Dearka's cry echoed around the empty room.

Yzak took the next few minutes to outline for the blond what Durandal had said. He also glossed over his meeting with Eileen Canaver and the Supreme Council, and the information that he'd learned about the newest council members in retrospect. While he talked, Dearka reacted in typical Elsman fashion, interrupting to ask whether Lambert was as ugly as his attitude suggested, and bursting into laughter at the idea of Shiho Hahnenfuss getting jealous over Nicol's Blitz. Yzak realized with a pang that Dearka had never met Shiho; he was long gone — a captive of the Earth Forces — by the time Le Creuset sent for more pilots to enlarge his dwindling team.

Their conversation flowed as smoothly as Yzak remembered their conversations having done in the past, but he still harbored a feeling of loss and resentment when it came to the blond before him. A huge gap yawned across the timeline of their companionship, and in that gap hovered all the answers that Yzak wanted but could not grasp. There were still things Dearka wasn't telling him, still emotions that his friend was keeping locked away.

"So, when's the mobile suit funeral scheduled for?" the blond asked when Yzak was through.

"Durandal didn't say. It didn't sound like it would be happening immediately, but I assume there's no chance of changing anyone's mind." Yzak leaned back in his chair with a sneer for the council members that had called for the decision.

"I knew it," Dearka exploded, catching Yzak quite off guard. "They're going to extract all the data they can from the operating systems first. I should have triple-encrypted the Buster's OS when I had the chance."

Yzak's eyes widened, and he brushed a strand of silver hair from his brow when it fell in his haste to sit up straight again. "What are you talking about?"

But Dearka was hunched over on his bed, deep in thought. "You said Durandal used the term, 'deconstruction,' right? That's different from a total demolition." Yzak's mind raced. He hadn't focused on that detail. He'd been more shocked by the idea that the Duel would no longer be his. "Rather than tear our suits to pieces and transport the bits to a refuse facility for disposal, they'll probably be recycling the parts."

"So?" Yzak replied. "Reusing materials would speed up the repair process after all the damage our fleets took. We're recovering from heavy losses. Our priority is recuperation, and it's called being resourceful."

"Bullshit," Dearka murmured, raking both hands through his hair this time. "They're going to rape the entire system inside both our mobile suits and learn whatever they can from deconstructing them. Recuperation as the top priority? Do you think that will keep ZAFT from building more machines? Using the technology of the Earth Forces to create newer, better models that are based off the Duel and the Buster, but this time made for Coordinator pilots? Like the Freedom… or the Justice… only mass produced and built for regular pilots…."

Yzak stared at Dearka as if he'd spoken Mermish. Durandal had explicitly stated that it was necessary to eliminate all dependency on Earth Alliance technology in order to attain peace between nations. He'd said nothing about acquiring further power. It didn't make sense… so why was Dearka's prediction so frighteningly convincing?

"There's no way that's true, Dearka," Yzak said, stiffening in his chair. "Something like that would only be inviting more war in the long run. We're supposed to be making _peace_ with the Naturals."

"Funny," Dearka mumbled, "I never thought I'd hear _you_ say that."

In a flash, Yzak sprung from his chair and his hand wove its way into the collar at Dearka's throat. He hovered menacingly above the startled blond.

"Let's get one thing straight, Elsman," he hissed, and Dearka didn't move. "I don't know exactly what came over you out there when you were with Zala and that Strike pilot, but I don't care what you or anyone else thinks of the choices I made as a soldier of ZAFT." His grip faltered, so he tightened his hold and fisted his other hand in Dearka's uniform front beside the first. The blond flinched, but held his tongue. "What's done is done, and it's pointless to debate over who did what and who was wrong. I'm not fighting against the Naturals, Elsman, and I never was. I'm fighting to defend the Coordinators. I protected the PLANTs, and I'll _keep_ protecting the PLANTs. If you think I don't know what sort of careful actions that entails under the current circumstances, you're mistaken."

He let Dearka go.

"Okay, Yzak." The blond sank back onto the bed without another word. His acceptance of the browbeating was nearly offensive.

God, where was Dearka's old fire?

Yzak's hands still trembled. He closed them in fists at his sides and avoided Dearka's gaze. "The acting chairman and Eileen Canaver have asked me to join the PLANT Supreme Council."

If Dearka looked weak with the unexpected before, now he looked doubly stricken. "A council member?" His voice was faint.

"They brought up the idea of a trial for you," Yzak stated, wiping the emotion clean from his tone. "I suggest you consider what it is you want to say at it. I don't think the moderate or neutral parties will judge you harshly, but whether or not the Council wants to admit it, the radical viewpoint has not been extinguished." He thought coldly of Emilio Lambert, his dark beady eyes and thin frown. "You could lose everything if the hearing doesn't play out in your favor, Dearka."

"Yzak…."

"But I intend to defend your position," Yzak added quietly. He looked back toward the bed, but Dearka had turned away from him.

With a wrenching of his gut at the sight, Yzak clenched his jaw and headed for the door, closing it with a bit more force than he'd meant to as he exited. So, Dearka still didn't know what he wanted? Yzak would just have to act for them both.


	5. PHASE 04

"No, Hahnenfuss." Yzak quickened his pace.

Shiho Hahnenfuss kept up at his heels. "I was hasty. I got carried away and I already apologized, so please let me—"

"You know," Yzak cut in, wishing he'd had the luxury of staying in bed rather than rising to such an intrusion, "for a soldier that normally adheres to protocol and displays strict composure, you've proven prone to inconsistency lately."

Shiho fell back in surprise. "Strict? I-inconsistency?" She blinked, as if considering. Her brow furrowed. Yzak walked faster.

She ran to catch him up again. "I don't think you're one to talk," she said.

Yzak groaned. What in all the PLANTs had he done to deserve this before he'd even eaten breakfast?

Yzak was wandering vaguely outside the barracks, hoping to lose Shiho in the halls between the sleeping quarters and the transport station. He needed to make a trip to the Council to state whether he'd be stepping in for Martius City… but he hadn't decided anything yet, and Shiho didn't need to know his plans for the day. Perhaps he should have made it a point to shun and dismiss her sooner. The longer he bandied words with her, the more confidence she seemed to emit.

He sighed. "Tell me again why you're following me?"

Her response was quick and fearless. "Because I acted out of line and should make amends. We're not forced to display professional attitudes toward each other on the same ship anymore, in case you hadn't noticed. That doesn't mean we have to be friends, but I won't let you brush me off as an enemy. We'll set a bad example for ZAFT if we fail to get along." Her almond eyes narrowed and her hair streamed out behind her like a battle flag. "I also want to figure out what's going on in the PLANTs. Yesterday I got the impression that you know more than I do, despite all the questions you asked."

Yzak decided that to rid himself of her company was not worth the effort it would require. He made for the mess hall. "What will I get out of it if I let you continue to hound me, Hahnenfuss?"

"Maybe a closer ally," Shiho said without hesitating.

"I don't believe I'm in need of new allies," Yzak said.

Shiho released a _tch_ of disapproval when her offer was declined. "Well then, at least stop trying to run the show," she snapped.

Yzak monitored her in his peripherals. Her timidity vanished whenever her temper flared.

"Working alone isn't always advisable," the girl said. "Especially not when you're a single soldier, part of a whole system and meant to function in a group. You'll make us all look foolish, strolling around and acting like you've got more authority than you really do. What exactly are your plans, and what makes you think you have a right to act arrogantly when everyone else is required to make congenial — if not friendly — efforts to uphold military standard?"

Yzak growled. Congenial efforts? How… infuriating this conversation had become. And to think he'd first pegged Shiho as a woman unlikely to cause a fuss.

They rounded the bend into the bustling dining area. Yzak grabbed a tray of the standard eggs and toast, and Shiho did likewise.

"I have every right to act without consulting anyone else," he retorted, moving to the table that looked least crowded. "Our team was disbanded, remember? Now I'm in charge of a detainee and I'm considering taking my mother's place on the PLANT Supreme Council. That's no one else's business."

Shiho sat opposite him, her expression a cool one. "For someone like you, what's there to _consider_ about joining the Council?"

Yzak speared a wad of sunny egg. "Meaning what, exactly, Hahnenfuss?"

Shiho tore her slice of toast in two and began to dip half of it into her egg mush. "It's not like you to hesitate." Yzak made a sour face. What the hell did she know about his personality? They hadn't exchanged more than passing remarks until the day before. "On the Vesalius… it wasn't hard to notice that you were always first to ask the commander for permission to lead our missions."

"So?" Yzak didn't like thinking that Shiho had been analyzing him without his knowledge or consent.

"So you seem to like leading. So take the open place on the Council."

Yzak grunted. "Politics and war tactics are nothing alike, Hahnenfuss. In fact, one usually gets in the way of the other."

"If you recognize that, then maybe you can fix it." She took a sip of juice and placed her cup down smoothly, but her fingers around the Styrofoam were tensed. "It's the least you could do to help the PLANTs, since your attitude regarding teamwork is less than satisfactory."

Yzak continued to eat as if he hadn't heard her, but for the first time since they'd begun to associate, he felt a twinge of mingled annoyance and respect toward Shiho Hahnenfuss. Something in her roused his sense of competition and made him want to remain at a distance. On the Vesalius, when she'd seemed timid, quiet, and harmless, Yzak had cursed her ability to turn out right. More than once her skills had earned her the Commander's praise in his stead. Despite that, Yzak had not seen her as a threat — for chances for her to surpass his experience presented themselves infrequently. But now…. How dare she? Sticking her nose into his business, having the audacity to point out what Yzak was not yet ready to consider himself, running ten steps ahead and expecting him to agree with her advice….

And her refusal to be put off by his verbal abuse was maddening. The only other soldier Yzak had known to be so impervious to his dislike — besides Dearka, who didn't exactly count — had been….

"I don't suppose you build little robotic creatures in your spare time, Hahnenfuss." The string of familiarity that wove throughout her person asserted itself without warning.

Shiho paused, then proceeded to scoop some eggs onto her fork, her exterior showing no sign of offense at his careless change of topic. "I may. Why?"

The resemblance he'd picked up upon was dimmer than starlight, Yzak knew, but it had been enough to spark his ire. "Because for a moment, you reminded me of someone I'd like to gut, spit, and roast over a campfire." Yzak pushed his tray aside, his appetite somewhat spoiled.

Shiho blinked and brought her laden fork to her mouth. She chewed, swallowed, and took another sip of her drink. "Is that so."

Such an annoying example of the female species. Wasn't she even going to inquire as to whom she reminded him of? She didn't ask. They lapsed into silence while Shiho finished eating. Yzak toyed with his cup of coffee, stuck thinking about the last person he wanted to think about.

Athrun Zala, former pilot of the X303 Aegis on the Le Creuset team. Later made commander of his own team, promoted, transferred, and finally… turned traitor to his homeland and his own father, Chairman Patrick Zala. He'd taken one of ZAFT's top secret machines, equipped with an N-Jammer Canceller — the ZGMF-X09A Justice, and joined up with wanted criminal Lacus Clyne to support the Three Ship Alliance. He'd fought alongside the Freedom against both ZAFT and the Earth Forces, and, according to Dearka, had last been seen trying to blow up his mobile suit to stop GENESIS from firing. Yzak had parted ways with Athrun on tense, but neutral terms the day Athrun had been transferred, but when Yzak had discovered the boy's underhanded coup, he'd been furious.

Had Athrun Zala managed to survive? Yzak pushed his cup of coffee away next. Although abusing the Zala boy forever provided a tempting alternative to admitting the truth, in the end… Athrun's judgment had proven sound. His reckless actions had done good. It was more than Yzak felt he had achieved in comparison. It wasn't Yzak that stopped the GENESIS. It was Athrun.

The blue-headed Coordinator had beaten him again.

Shiho ate her toast without comment.

What would Athrun do, if he were in Yzak's position now? Yzak hated himself for wondering. Hated himself for finding a reason to want the presence of the very teammate he'd always tried to attack or avoid. He didn't want to think about it.

He chose instead to pick on Shiho's table etiquette. "Don't sit there with your mouth hanging open, Hahnenfuss. It's not attractive."

Shiho closed her mouth, but otherwise didn't respond. Her eyes were following some exchange a few tables away, and it was with a grumble of irritation that Yzak turned to see for himself what the commotion was about. His sharp gaze immediately picked out the uniform of another ZAFT red. A tall male, with offensively orange hair. And he was speaking to a green coat that Yzak was all too familiar with.

It was the soldier that struck Dearka on the day the blond was held for initial investigation. Yzak's brow darkened.

"Who are they, Hahnenfuss?"

Shiho tore her gaze away to look at him. Though her voice rose slightly in pitch, she schooled her expression so as not to attract attention from a distance. "Are you kidding?" she asked. "I don't know about the one in the green uniform, but that's Heine Westenfluss."

Yzak rolled the name over in his memory. "Of the Hawkins Team?" he asked her.

"Yes. Last I heard he was piloting a GuAIZ, the Experimental Firearms Type. That model… it was designed to test the weapons that ended up installed on the Justice and Freedom. No nuclear power core, though…."

"Has anyone told you that your obsessive knowledge of suit types extends far beyond the realm of normal?" Yzak asked.

Shiho was still watching Heine. "If he's here, he must have been out in the fighting at Jachin Due only days ago, at the same time we were."

She was silent after that, and Yzak couldn't help but believe he knew what she was thinking. ZAFT had needed every single one of its fleets and pilots to defend the PLANTs from the Earth Alliance that day.

Suddenly Shiho stiffened. "Bloody Valentine."

Yzak had never heard her utter a coarse phrase before, much less one that held such recent and hellish memories for all of Coordinator kind due to its relation to Junius Seven. "What?" he demanded.

"He's FAITH. I've never seen…."

Yzak tensed. Someone like Westenfluss, a member of FAITH? He looked again at the boy with the citrus-bright hair. Heine was smiling, a small quirk of his lips that made him seem mysterious and yet strangely approachable. He couldn't have been much older than Yzak or Shiho. The FAITH pin glinted under the ceiling lights. To be awarded such an honor so young…. Was Westenfluss exceptionally talented, or was ZAFT taking drastic measures and promoting those with potential as fast as they could? Unlike being raised to Commander status, being awarded the status of FAITH required little ceremony, and it surpassed the other ranks. With the number of casualties expanding in recent battles, it would be efficient to assign members of FAITH to positions of command when troops were needed and when time was short….

Without warning, Shiho rose. Heine Westenfluss was navigating his way across the mess hall toward them. Yzak got to his feet hastily, his breakfast long forgotten; both he and Shiho executed smart salutes. Yzak resented the idea of saluting anybody with a uniform that matched his own, and if the small lines on Shiho's brow were a minimal indication of her feelings, so did she. But they followed the standard regulations. Heine was FAITH.

The first thing Heine did was pause and salute them back. "I thought it might be nice to introduce myself to a couple of fellow reds," he said.

The casual greeting caught Yzak off guard. Shiho opened her mouth, but nothing came out, so he assumed she was equally at a loss.

"What, no responses? Did the shock of the last battle permanently damage your psyches? I was under the impression that the Le Creuset team members were some of the finest." Hands met narrow hips in mock disapproval.

Yzak's face contorted. Ten seconds and he already hated Westenfluss. "What exactly, sir, was the Hawkins team doing when the nukes were fired?" he snarled, unable to help himself. He noted Shiho in his peripherals, growing stiffer than he thought possible under the limits of the human body. His breach of protocol had disturbed her.

Heine threw up his hands. "Easy, easy. And don't call me 'sir.' Please, call me Heine." He raised his eyebrows. "We're all ZAFT here, and that makes us companions in a way, don't you agree?"

Yzak snorted. Companions his ass.

"Shiho Hahnenfuss. It's nice to meet you, Heine," Shiho covered, though she paused before using his name as requested. "How have you been recuperating from battle?"

Heine heaved an exaggerated sigh and took a seat in the chair beside the one Yzak had vacated. "Actually, Yzak here — it is Yzak Joule, the Duel pilot, isn't it? — may have been onto something when he asked about my participation in the last battle." Yzak glowered. That another soldier knew him by name and face was not unusual, but none had ever been so casual about it. "I've made a fool of myself on the field recently." Heine glanced up at Yzak and Shiho. "Sit, I beg of you. There's no need to stand on ceremony."

Yzak dropped back into his chair and crossed his arms over his chest. Damned if he would show one bit of respect to this fool if it wasn't necessary. Shiho hesitated a moment before doing as she was bidden.

"Anyway," Heine said, lounging in the chair as if it were a plush sofa, "While the Le Creuset team was fighting on the front lines, pursuing the enemy ships to the Mendel Colony, and so forth, the Hawkins team was engaged with a fleet of the Earth Forces' Eurasian Federation. I was the only elite pilot on my Nazca class, and I got caught in a duel of sorts against a well known ace of theirs… called Morgan Chevalier?" The FAITH pilot waited to see if either Yzak or Shiho would be familiar with the name. When neither of them offered a word, Heine looked positively injured. "Aah! Now I really do feel like I missed out on the good stuff. What I wouldn't have given to face off against a ship like the Archangel and make a name for myself…."

Yzak exchanged glances with Shiho. Had Heine forgotten that he was sitting before them with a FAITH pin at his neck?

Heine pointed to Yzak's mostly un-touched breakfast, by now stone cold. "Do you mind if I eat your toast?"

Yzak waved a dismissive hand. "As you see fit… Heine." He monitored Heine as the toast made a loud crunch, disappearing into his mouth around a musical mutter of, "I'm so hun~gry~!" Yzak bit his lip to keep from commenting. He glanced at the clock above the kitchens and realized that he was no longer sure he'd escape in time to mull over his options before bringing the Council his decision. He frowned. Shiho was sitting quietly with her hands in her lap.

"Shiho," Heine said after a moment, and Shiho started a little to find herself addressed directly. "What did you do out there while Yzak was killing off Naturals in big, scary mobile suits?"

Yzak wanted to sock the man in the face, but Heine's accompanying grin was unfortunately not hostile enough to merit it.

"I was assigned to Yzak's squad and ordered to defend the PLANTs and the Vesalius, sir," she responded.

Heine shook a finger at her. "_Heine_," he reminded, over-stressing the pronunciation. Shiho nodded quickly. "In any case, I think that's rather noble of you both. You were fighting against the major players, you know. Ah, but I was saying…. Morgan Chevalier is known as Mad Dog under the Moonlight, or the Moonlight Mad Dog among the Earth Forces. His spatial awareness when fighting in an open atmosphere is like nothing I've seen. Talent perhaps up to par with your Rau Le Creuset, or with his nemesis and the Atlantic Federation's ace Mu La Flaga. Ah, but both of them have been killed, haven't they…."

Yzak was growing more confounded by the minute. Up to par with Le Creuset? Impossible. But if it were true, then Heine Westenfluss certainly would deserve the glinting silver wings on his collar….

"He's a formidable enemy, Chevalier. He shot off the right leg of my machine and destroyed my rifle. I only had my beam sabers after that, and I was nearly out of power because my line to the generator had been cut. Phase Shift on a GuAIZ type drains the battery like crazy, in case you've never piloted one." Shiho nodded to confirm the information, but ceased when Yzak caught her at it. "I was perfectly prepared to continue on, of course, but I still couldn't bring him down. You see, when GENESIS fired, the blast got between us, and I never had another chance to attack him. I still don't know if he managed to escape, or whether his machine was destroyed in the beam. I couldn't avoid returning to my ship after that, and I feel quite unsettled not knowing who would have won our little duel." Heine tossed his hands into the air. "The whole incident made me look foolish. But I suppose I can't blame Chairman Zala for his aim, can I?" His eyes sparked beneath the humor, and for a moment Yzak was reminded of Durandal. Heine seemed to be hiding some deep emotion, daring Yzak and Shiho to uncover what lay beneath the surface of his words…. Did Heine disagree with Patrick Zala's choice?

Shiho's mouth had slipped open again, and in all other circumstances, Yzak would have been tickled by the sight of the cool girl discomposed. But his stomach was cramping with the effort of keeping his own expression blank. There was something chilling in the cheerful and utterly carefree fashion that Heine chose to tell his story. Here was a soldier that appeared to be far more experienced than either of them — so experienced, in fact, that he viewed his own one-on-one battle with a Natural ace — like Commander Le Creuset and La Flaga! — as barely noteworthy. He certainly hadn't fought the Strike, or had to contend with the Justice or the Freedom, but nevertheless….

What if Heine were telling the truth, and none of it was shameless boasting?

If Heine Westenfluss had been on the Le Creuset team, would the fighting on the front lines have lasted as long as it had? Yzak didn't like to think himself inferior; he liked to think that the X-Numbers were more formidable than a machine like Heine's GuAIZ, but by the time Heine had finished speaking…. Yzak found himself wondering if perhaps it was the pilot rather than the machine that truly mattered.

"Oh, but GENESIS," Heine was saying, and Yzak flinched to hear the name again. He was tired of reliving the truth of what had happened that day. "That's another reason I came to speak with you two." Heine leaned over the table and dropped his voice to a whisper, conspiring like a schoolgirl. "I hear that the Buster pilot from your team is being held in detainment, for defecting and taking part in trying to stop the GENESIS right when Patrick Zala was hearts-and-rainbows ecstatic over getting to fire it. Is it true they have it in for him now?"

There was a hellish pause in which Shiho paled in anticipation, and Yzak exploded at last.

"Are you an _idiot?!_"

He didn't know whether it was the infuriatingly jaunty way that Heine spoke of the incident, or the implied disapproval of Dearka's wartime actions that enraged him, but Yzak sprang from his chair and it clattered to the mess hall floor.

Heine's smile vanished immediately, and a pair of piercing green eyes narrowed. "I certainly hope I'm no idiot, Joule." There was no humor left in his voice.

Yzak stood fuming. A few soldiers glanced over in alarm, but at the sight of two elite reds caught in confrontation, they ceased their gawking lest they be targeted next.

"Have I offended you with something I said?" Heine asked, his tone meticulous and still with a hint of peril.

Shiho had pushed out her chair and adopted a ready stance, but had otherwise not dared to move. A strand of chestnut hair fell over her shoulder, but she ignored it while Yzak's face burned crimson with heat.

Heine's gaze didn't falter. "I was merely going to ask whether you and he are good friends. I was speaking to another soldier before I joined you two, you see, and he mentioned news of something fishy happening in the temporary housing quarters. That's where the pilot is being held, no?" Heine remained calm in his chair, but he was no longer lounging informally. "I believe there might be reason to suspect your former team member of foul play, that's all. I thought it might be wise to alert you, especially if you care for him."

Yzak's snarl was audible in the awkward hush of the mess hall. "Foul play? Like what? He's in detainment! That's nothing but rubbish! Elsman may not be a shining star of ZAFT after what happened," he spat, "But he knows enough not to dig his own grave." Yzak's hands trembled, so he curled them into fists. Heine did not miss the threat.

"Yzak," Shiho warned.

"Keep your nose out of ZAFT's business with the Buster pilot, Westenfluss," he said. "You don't know the things that happened to him out there." Yzak had never taken it upon himself to defend his old teammate to such a degree, but the FAITH member before him had opened some river of righteous fury that Yzak had not formerly known himself to possess.

"You should go to him," was all Heine said.

An unwarranted pang of apprehension flew through Yzak at the statement. If Heine Westenfluss had earned the status of FAITH… was it possible that his warning might be legitimate?

"Hahnenfuss, we're finished here." Yzak didn't have time to wonder why taking the female soldier along was necessary, but somewhere beneath his wrath he was relieved when she nodded and tailed him out.

He barreled down the hallways while Shiho struggled to keep up. She hissed something about running in crowded places, but Yzak didn't listen. He pushed past soldiers and mechanics without apology, until personnel in his path began to hear him coming and scattered to give him passage. He heard Shiho making muttered and embarrassed apologies in his wake.

They entered the colossal docking arena and crossed the pedestrian walkway in the same hasty manner. The double arch that led to the honeycomb of temporary housing rooms grew closer, until at last they passed beneath it and began to wind through the maze. Not far now….

There came the noise of a scuffle in the hall ahead. Yzak neared, with Shiho on his heels, and a door burst open with a crash. Men with guns filed out in a thunder of boots on tile, and at their center stood a figure, quite surrounded by threat, and doubled over as if he'd just been landed a blow. He was a blond, and his wrists were bound behind his back…. Yzak halted, stunned, while Shiho glanced between his expression and the scene, apparently trying to gather information as to what was occurring.

Yzak was ten steps ahead of her.

"But this is the section where they keep refugees and non hostiles," Shiho murmured, while guns locked into position and the figure in the middle of the soldiers flinched when prodded.

"Out of the way, please," the lead soldier barked roughly. "We're taking this detainee into custody."

"Detainee?" Shiho asked.

Yzak could not muster the presence of mind to respond, to explain.

To tell her that it was his friend and former teammate the men had arrested.

Shiho leaned in to get a better glimpse of the captive. She had never before clapped eyes on Dearka Elsman, and Yzak hadn't told her that Dearka had been moved to more comfortable quarters, but her almond eyes glinted and in a flash, Yzak knew she had assembled the puzzle. "This goes against protocol," she upbraided. "Why is he bound? If he's still being detained, it means there's no evidence yet that he's—"

"I understand that a red uniform entitles you to a good amount of piloting privileges and respect, young lady, but it gives you no more authority than a normal soldier of your position." The man that spoke emerged from the door and motioned toward Dearka. "As you can see, it affords this traitorous ZAFT red no protection whatsoever. Now, step aside and stop asking questions."

Shiho looked affronted, but she moved aside for the man with dark features that had come out of Dearka's temporary room. Yzak's jaw tightened, but he could not find it in himself to be surprised. It was Emilio Lambert in his white commander's uniform, and upon sight of him, the silver head's discomfort flared.

Yzak stepped in to the forefront of the group. Dearka looked up, caught sight of him, and immediately paled. Yzak kept his mouth a thin line. At least the blond knew he was mincemeat — _if_ Yzak could get him out of his current predicament. Lambert had noticed Yzak's presence as well. His beady eyes widened a bit, but he greeted Yzak in a manner that proved congenial enough.

"Yzak Joule, it's no surprise to see you here, come to think of it. As a prospective Council member, of course you'd want to be alerted if there came knowledge of a threat to the homeland."

Yzak rested a hand at his hip. "What was the offense committed, Commander?"

"We caught the detainee attempting to access the OS of the X103 Buster through the com-link connection in his room."

Yzak's gaze flickered to Dearka's face instinctively. Dearka avoided his eyes, but Yzak could tell that the blond felt his stare; the slump in his shoulders drooped, apologetic. The silver head was careful to master the emotions he felt at the sight before looking back at Lambert.

"Well? Who the hell was in charge of watching him in my absence? Obviously the guard assigned to hold him was an incompetent—"

"It should have been _your_ duty to hand-pick that person, Joule. We've already delivered strict punishment to the parties responsible for allowing the security breach. The fact remains, however, that this boy has taken advantage of the Chairman's trust in him by attempting to access that which he — as a detainee waiting for the right to a trial — has no authority to access."

"The _Chairman_?" Yzak and Shiho asked in unison.

"Councilman Durandal at last agreed to take up the position this morning at our meeting. Many believe that he was pressured into it against his will by the overzealous support of Canaver and Andres, among others, but the fact remains that he is now the new Supreme Council Chair." Lambert's features were unreadable. "Now, if you've nothing left to contribute, Mr. Joule, I've orders to haul this boy to a proper holding facility until his trial can be arranged. Obviously now a hearing takes priority. Meddling with off-limits X-Numbers is no small crime considering the current pressures that the PLANTs face." The man gave the signal for the soldiers to proceed.

Shiho was forced to step back as they passed, but Yzak held his ground. A few men were compelled to move around him, and as a result, Dearka passed by Yzak rather closely. They did not exchange words or glances, but the silent communication that took place despite their separate anxieties stood as tribute to the deep grave that had now been dug for both of them.

_I really fucked up this time, Yzak._

_You've disappointed me, Elsman._

_

* * *

_

_Author Note: This chapter is one that I'm fond of entirely because of Heine Westenfluss. I don't think I'd call myself a dedicated fan, but I enjoyed interpreting his character and reading up about his history in the Astray canon. If I launched too far into detail of his escapades, I apologize. It's occurred to me that movement in this chapter was slow all around. Oops. I wanted to include as many facts about Heine's exploits (and about Shiho's character too, actually) as I could. Heine's appearance in Destiny is painfully brief. The least I could do was give him some glory…. And in the future, he'll be back. _


	6. PHASE 05

_Author Note: I went back and re-adjusted some things in the chapter prior to this one, guys. As _**anja-chan**_ pointed out, I was epic-failing at keeping Shiho's character consistent. I changed some of her dialogue and a few other little parts, though I can't say how well I did improving things. I'll keep trying my best._

_Also, lots of Council stuff in this chapter, but personally, I find it interesting._

_

* * *

  
_

Yzak practically stormed the office of Jack Andres.

"Sir, I'm aware that I was to report to a full council, but I've made my decision and I'd like to act on it immediately. I've chosen to represent Martius City."

Andres looked up over the rims of his glasses in astonishment. "So quickly, Yzak? Just at this morning's meeting, Eileen Canaver was talking about extending the period she'd given you to decide. Something the Chairman said about allowing you to think more thoroughly…. You've heard, haven't you? Gilbert Durandal has officially taken the position of Chairman."

"I've heard, sir," Yzak dismissed hastily. "About my position…?" He thought he could see a small grin beneath the man's pale mustache.

"Yes, yes. You're certain? Very well. Then you may report to the meeting at fifteen hundred hours this afternoon. Can you manage it?"

Yzak clicked his heels together grimly. "Without fail." Andres nodded, and Yzak was dismissed.

Now he was in his barracks room again, anxious and sick over the current proceedings. By tomorrow, he would be transported from the barracks to a building near the core of the PLANT, into one of the lush hotel rooms that council members stayed in when they traveled to Aprilius One on business. Yzak stared at his reflection in the mirror before which he stood.

He'd been provided with the standard attire of PLANT officials. Deep navy slacks ran in straight, ironed lines to the tops of his shoes, where until now standard white ZAFT boots had hugged his shins to his knees. The jacket was navy as well, a blue so deep and vibrant that it called upon the sapphire in his eyes to gleam brighter in competition. Yzak studied his own gaze. The piercing color of his irises shone beneath the pure silver glint of his hair, and if he squinted… let his features soften and blur for a moment or two… he looked like his mother. He fingered the green and crimson scarf at his neck. He still needed to pin on the golden brooch that marked him specifically as a member of Council, and when he did that… the transformation would be complete. Yzak lifted the shining object in his fingers and fastened it onto the material at his throat, reminded vaguely of the FAITH pin that Heine wore.

Now there was no question that he occupied a formidable position. His conversation with Shiho floated back to him.

_Politics and war tactics are nothing alike…. One usually gets in the way of the other…._

_If you recognize that, then maybe you can fix it._

Yzak turned away from his reflection.

He would have no help from those he had been surrounded by and learned to depend upon in the past. His mother was locked in her own residence, Athrun Zala was missing, or dead, Dearka was being held prisoner. Commander Le Creuset was dead, and even the gentle and playful Nicol Amarfi had left their world for a place where there existed no war or turmoil, no need to take political action to protect what was vital to keep the Coordinators safe. It looked bleak; a Theme of Tears indeed. Yzak recalled the opening bars of the Blitz pilot's melody, but rather than mourn, he decided to steel himself. The PLANTs needed all the help they could get to assure peace with the Earth Alliance. As long as both sides were suspicious and fearful of each other, guns would remain raised and conflicts would break out, inevitable. Yzak wanted with all his soul to be able to take full pride in his homeland again, to put the mistakes of the past behind him, and so…. To help mold a future for the PLANTs that Coordinators could be proud of… he would use what skills he had to sway the Supreme Council. Yzak smirked. Yes, he'd show those idiots how to run things….

But before Yzak could attempt revolution, he needed to consider Dearka's trial. The blond had thrown a wrench into his plans. It would have been easy enough to let Dearka sit tight while things blew over, and then use his influence to convince the council to let him off lightly, but now…. Why in the name of the PLANTs had Dearka been stupid enough to try to access the Buster's OS?

Yzak growled into his empty room. There was one way to find out, and he had time yet before the Council meeting. He could use the opportunity to test his new authority….

"I need a private word with Dearka Elsman," he told the guard when he arrived at the place where the blond was held.

The green-coat knew him by face, but apparently had not yet learned Yzak held a position in Council. "Y-yes sir," the man said, blinking twice at Yzak's blue uniform. He stepped aside. "He's in there by himself, sir. The two of you won't be bothered." Yzak relished the look of awe on the soldier's countenance as he was granted access.

With a swiftly beating heart, Yzak entered a room that was dismal and bare. The reinforced door closed behind him, and the only light within shone from a bulb above the center of a barren concrete floor. A chair with a rung missing tilted precariously in one corner in the dark.

It wasn't a prison cell. It was quite possibly worse, for there was no sign of a bed or mattress on which a prisoner might sleep. Yzak took a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the weak light, and then he saw Dearka in the shadows, sitting on the floor with his legs tucked against his chest.

His wrists were bound above him, shackled to the wall that he leaned on.

Yzak took a step forward, stricken, and his shoe made a scuffing noise.

Dearka raised his head and appeared to drink in the sight of him with something like terror, and then instant relief and apology. "Oh God. Yzak." Dirt and flecks of blood streaked everything from his face to his teal ZAFT undershirt. "Don't scare me like that. For a second, I thought you were your mother. Talk about a heart attack."

Yzak tried to remain aloof. He really did. But within seconds, he had broken into a swift forward stride and dropped to his knees on the dusty floor. "Dearka…." He reached a hand toward the metal restraints to loosen them, but Dearka shook his head.

"Don't bother. They won't come loose. It's temporary, anyway — only because I tried to sock the guy who brought me breakfast. They'll let me go in a couple hours."

Yzak bit back what felt like the beginnings of a frustrated sob. "You _idiot!_" Why had the blond insisted on bringing such harm to himself? So long as he was just a detainee, treatment like this was unacceptable. But now, Dearka was a criminal as well, and Yzak could not argue for his release within the bounds of military protocol.

The blond's responding grin was reckless. "Don't get me wrong, Yzak, but it was kind of fun. For a volunteer-based army, ZAFT can be pretty strict, so it was a relief to be able to fight back for once against all their stupid rules. I'm fine. I probably got off easier than I would have if I were still one of their pilots and actually held to standard."

Was this Dearka, speaking of his homeland in such a way?

Yzak studied the defiant tension in Dearka's jaw before replying in a voice that echoed in outrage around the empty space. "Well, get the god damned rebellious bullshit out of your system, you piece of Debris Belt waste — or there won't be a single scrap of hope left for you in all the PLANTs!"

Dearka's gaze traveled slowly from the colored scarf at Yzak's neck and upward, past his lips and to his eyes. "You decided to join the Council," he said.

"What a stunning example of your observational prowess, Elsman. Did you hear a word I said?"

Dearka's laugh left him more like a wheeze. He coughed when he uprooted the dust on the floor. "I guess I should ask you what I can do to fix this mess before you blow me to hell with your temper."

Was Dearka _stupid_? It wasn't about tempers, or cracking caustic jokes!

"Dearka, you'll have a trial," he said wearily. "And soon. The new Chairman, Durandal… I don't think he has anything against you, but you've really put yourself into a bad position. I don't know what the consequences will be yet if the Council finds you guilty of what crimes they choose to accuse you with, but you can bet they won't be pretty. I don't know if I'll be allowed to stand as your defense anymore." His voice wavered. "If you work hard and cooperate, you might get a second chance. Normally people only get one shot at a thing like war, Dearka. _One_. If you blow this, I'll never forgive you." Yzak rose from his knees and retreated to the chair in the corner, where he stood glaring down at it, his vision drifting out of focus.

Dearka was quiet for a long while. No sound graced the empty room save the occasional clank of the blond's chains or Yzak's shaky breathing in his own ears. Please, please let his stupid teammate figure out what in hell he wanted….

"So what's in it for you, Councilman Joule?" Dearka asked after a time had elapsed. "What do you gain by helping me, I mean?

Yzak whirled on him. "Unfortunately, not much," he replied. "The start of my political career will probably go to hell when the military hears about my support for you."

Dearka's face was unreadable. "Then why are you wasting your time?" he asked, as if bored with the entire conversation.

A muscle in Yzak's temple twitched. He'd had enough.

He stalked to where Dearka sat. "You're all I have left!" he erupted. "If I let them kick your sorry carcass out of ZAFT, Elsman, there won't be any point in my being here! Everyone else is gone now, and if you leave too, I can't keep going."

The blond's eyes flew wide as Yzak's tirade went on.

"I didn't join the Council for my own selfish pride! I joined it to help change things, because I want to use my abilities to make a difference. Isn't that the same reason we all became ZAFT in the beginning? If you get penalized for what you've done because you don't care enough to defend yourself or explain why you chose the legged ship, then nothing will ever be different! We'll both have failed at making ZAFT a better place with the knowledge that we've gained from all our trials and losses. What about the ones that died for us? What is that we were _fighting_ for? It won't be worth anything if we stop trying now." His shouts were hoarse. "I won't fail any more, damn it! And I won't let you dodge your responsibility! You can't just give up, Dearka!"

All at once, Yzak felt drained. He averted his face from the blond's look of astonishment and closed his eyes. This… where was the point in all of this if they didn't succeed after what they'd been through? He couldn't bear to see Dearka prosecuted for trying to find the answers. The blond had come back for better or worse, and Yzak wanted Dearka to stay….

"Why did you try to access the Buster's OS?" he asked wearily, in an attempt to move the conversation away from what gave him a headache.

"I told you, I wanted to triple-encrypt it." Dearka's response was hollow, robotic, and Yzak could tell that the blond had not yet recovered from the force of his prior outburst. He'd answered automatically, without his mind in it, because his mind was still trying to sort out Yzak's bombardment….

Yzak spoke smoothly, focused now that he'd unleashed his typhoon and determined to pull Dearka back to rational ground with him in the short minute they had left. "The Buster is as good as gone, and so is the Duel. Get used to it, Elsman. Don't do anything else that will make your case worse."

Dearka stirred on the floor when Yzak shifted. "Wait, Yzak, are you leaving already?"

Yzak treaded purposefully for the door. "I have a Council meeting to attend."

"H-hang on—"

"I won't allow you to make me late for my debut, Elsman." He placed his hand on the knob, wrenched it open, and exited back into the bright hallway.

Whatever Dearka needed to contemplate, he would have to do it on his own for now, until Yzak knew better how to aid him. Until he knew how to reign in his outbursts. He couldn't _force_ Dearka to make a choice, no matter how much Dearka's participation in ZAFT mattered to him.… Dearka had to make one for himself….

Yzak straightened the collar of his navy jacket and headed for the transport station.

— x —

When Yzak stepped out of the escort vehicle, he was surprised to find Tad Elsman and Yuri Amarfi waiting to greet him. Tad reached out to shake his hand. Yzak felt immediately awkward, but he returned the gesture coolly.

"It's odd," Tad said as the three of them mounted the stairs to the Supreme Council building. "Yuri here, Patrick Zala, your mother, and myself used to sit before the council meetings started and talk about how proud we were to have sons on the Le Creuset team." Tad's voice rang deep and reflective. "Yuri would worry endlessly. Patrick would brag… or complain about his son's faults, depending on his mood that day. Your mother would talk for a while, then try to direct our attention toward matters at hand." Yuri Amarfi smiled slightly in recognition of the memories, and Tad Elsman raised his head to look up at the architecture of the golden-amber Council building as they climbed. "None of us would have imagined that so much could change, and so unexpectedly."

Yzak remained respectfully silent.

"So many lives lost," Tad murmured, "but that's war for you. And now, we have one of the future's brightest young pilots joining us at our table. Who'd have thought?"

Yuri patted Yzak on the back. "Ezalia is likely very proud of you. In fact, we all are. I think what Tad is trying to say is that no matter what happens inside the Council in terms of friendly debate, we won't forget that you were part of the team that Nicol and Dearka both fought for to their utmost."

They neared the large revolving doors and Tad scratched his head, embarrassed. "Yes, thank you, Yuri." He stepped back to allow Nicol's father to enter before them, and in so doing, gave himself and Yzak time for a last brief word. "Also, Yzak, whatever my son has done, and whatever actions you may be forced to take as a result… I would never hold them against you. I want you to know that."

"Thank you, sir," Yzak replied automatically, though his ability to feel gracious was blotted out by the undertone of foreboding that crept in with Tad Elsman's words. They entered the premises and took a lift to the highest floor.

Upon reaching the meeting room, Yzak could see that most of the committee members had taken seats around the circular table. With his palms sweaty, Yzak crossed the room to the third spot from the left — the chair that was now to be his. It put him between Tad Elsman of Februarius City — an Administrative Committee member of neutral standing — and the seat for the Aprilius City representative. Yzak was not up to date with who had taken the Aprilius chair after Siegel Clyne's execution, but after scanning the room's occupants he deduced that it was a bookish-looking woman with brown hair. She took her place momentarily.

"Ah, Representative Joule," she said, holding out her hand. "Welcome. I'm Mariah Hahnenfuss for Aprilius City."

Yzak nearly choked on his greeting.

"All right everyone, settle down, and please be seated in accordance with the city you represent. Due to Councilman Joule's arrival, I aim to conduct quite a formal meeting this afternoon."

Durandal spoke lightly while the stragglers took their chairs, and Yzak returned the nod that the man bestowed upon him. He watched the members he knew settle in — Eileen Canaver, Jack Andres, Tad Elsman at his side — and the others that he was less familiar with. Ali Kassim, Louise Leitner…. Yzak did not yet know all their names. He swallowed as Chairman Durandal took his place, the signal for the meeting to commence.

Yzak sat through a long introduction pertaining to what the Council had last discussed. Distribution of resources across the PLANTs for repairs to broken fleets, and the cost of such an endeavor. Orb's current reconstruction efforts. Preparations for meeting with the Naturals aboard the MacArthur to begin the peace talks. Yzak listened intently, but he itched to move about. He glanced at Tad Elsman, who remained fully attentive and calm. His hair was dark and smooth, his skin creamy. Yzak decided that Dearka inherited his prominent traits from his mother. But where was she? The blond had rarely spoken of her…. Tad shifted only once, to fold his hands over the table. Yzak didn't know how the man managed to appear so still. Dearka did not possess his father's patience, either — never mind his looks — and Yzak, for that matter, did not possess his mother's. Yzak determined after half an hour of talk that the Council room was no place for a mobile suit pilot. He longed for action, not discussion. Still, he forced himself to follow the proceedings with a keen ear.

"And in terms of those plans," Eileen Canaver was saying, "Will we seek to include the Three Ship Alliance in our discussions?" Yzak's curiosity piqued, and he listened with bated breath.

"Ah," Durandal said, drawing back in his chair and looking vaguely worried. "As a matter of fact, I believe the committee members of our National Defense had news on that front. Councilman Amarfi, perhaps you…?"

Nicol's father nodded and rose. "As a matter of fact, it was Councilman Lambert who thought to look into this, but if he doesn't mind my explaining to the rest of our members…?" Lambert nodded his go-ahead, and Yuri Amarfi spoke louder. "Our fleets have been monitoring our borders ever since the fighting stopped. We picked up a multitude of Earth Alliance ships — none hostile, mind you. They were merely collecting their dead and their wounded." There was a respectful pause around the table. "As well as noting such vessels, we had the Eternal and her two partner ships under watch. Just recently, however, they've disappeared off our radar." This caused a stir among the representatives. "We've reason to believe that they've retreated, and if such is the case, it will be difficult to relocate them."

"They fled?" Yzak spoke for the first time.

"'Fled' may not be a fair term," Lambert cut in, silencing the others with a lifted hand. "But there's no doubt that by absenting themselves in this time of unsteady negotiation, they have refused to take part in the seeking of peace on the political level."

There was a chorus of discontented mutters and jeers. The Eternal, the Archangel… the Justice and the Freedom…. They had materialized, caused a wave of destruction and confusion, stopped the nuclear missiles and the GENESIS, and then… retreated? Were they backing out of dealing with consequences and repercussions now that the fighting seemed finished? Chairman Durandal leaned over his hands and his ebony hair fell in pools over his shoulders.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please," he said. "It does indeed seem that the Three Ship Alliance is not willing to take part in the negotiations between the PLANTs and the Earth Forces. This does _not_ mean we ought to assume they only interjected in the fighting out of some desire to antagonize both sides into truce and then disappear without taking responsibility. Perhaps if we reach out to them, they would agree to offer their opinions. Perhaps they merely think that they would be shunned if they were to intrude upon us further at this point. After all, both ZAFT and the Earth Forces have reason to dislike Clyne and her cohorts after the most recent battle."

Mariah Hahnenfuss spoke out carefully. "Are you suggesting that we try to contact Lacus Clyne?"

"What _is_ Lacus Clyne, Representative Hahnenfuss, but the perfect idol of peace?" Durandal spoke with a tone of deepest reverence. "I think we of the PLANTs can all agree that right now, we may need her songs more than ever."

"Morale _is_ low," Andres murmured.

The debate went on for some time. Yzak lost himself wondering what he'd do if he came face-to-face with the pink princess, or the Freedom pilot — formerly pilot of the Strike! — in a diplomatic discussion. And Athrun… would he agree to take part in negotiations, knowing what his father had been responsible for? To Yzak's relief, the Coordinators about the table slowly seemed to reach the conclusion that seeking out Lacus was an option-thread best cut.

"After all," said Louise Leitner, "if the PLANTs can't manage to negotiate their own treaty without consulting outside parties, how will that affect the Naturals' faith in us?" Yzak decided he agreed with her stance. ZAFT was best left to face its mistakes and find a solution on its own, for it was ZAFT that was a good deal at fault.

Also, everyone in the council room remembered the pop singer's sly maneuvering. Lacus Clyne's traitorous actions had not yet been forgiven by all parties….

"This reminds me of a matter somewhat related that cannot be put aside," said Lambert. "We must not hesitate to prosecute that Elsman boy. His conduct as of late has been nothing but a nuisance." Tad Elsman stiffened, but Lambert did not seem to notice.

Yzak unclenched his jaw to speak. "I as well would like to know where Elsman stands."

Andres was quick to raise an announcement on the topic. "He _will_ be allotted a fair trial. We of the Judicial Committee have already arranged for a hearing."

"Two weeks hence," Louise Leitner specified with a toss of her blond hair, and Yzak determined that she must be the Judicial Committee chair.

"That's very diligent of you both," Chairman Durandal drawled amiably, but his gaze examined the council members one by one. "Perhaps while we are on the subject, those of you with doubts or questions about Dearka's trial may raise them before we proceed."

The representative of Quintilus City raised his hand. "Are we to receive a full list of his accused crimes, and a report of his movements that detail his course of action once he was captured by the Earth Forces? For those of us unfamiliar with the Le Creuset team and its progressions…."

"We've already put such a document together, with the information that we've acquired," Jack Andres answered, "However, there are instances where we were unable to fill in gaps, due to the detainee's refusal to speak with us."

Leitner was examining her polished fingernails. "To be honest, he'd have a better chance of a fair trial if we understood — before making overzealous accusations — when and why he made the decisions he did when he chose to defect."

It seemed to be the comment Durandal was waiting for. His sharp eyes found Yzak. "Well, Councilwoman Leitner, I believe that our newest representative may be able to help with that." Yzak's body chilled, but he held his tongue until the Chairman had finished. "Since Yzak Joule was on the same team as Dearka under Le Creuset, and has spoken to Dearka while in detainment, perhaps he would be able to assist in filling in the blanks."

Yuri Amarfi interrupted quietly. "Are you asking Representative Joule to help compile a list of offenses against his former teammate?"

"I am merely suggesting that Yzak take part in putting together a more thorough analysis of Dearka's Elsman's actions. Thoroughness stands for fairness, here, Councilman Amarfi, and I'm sure you'll agree that Dearka Elsman deserves a fair trial in the PLANTs, no matter what his offenses." Durandal's expression remained unruffled. Yuri Amarfi nodded and fell silent.

There was a stretch of silence in which Yzak was tempted to reach up and loosen the scarf of his uniform, but he thought better of it. A tumble of enraged curses threatened to spill from his lips — none of which were appropriate to use before the PLANT Supreme Council.

"Councilman Joule," Jack Andres prodded gently, "Do you think you might agree to help us?"

"I don't see how he has a choice," grunted Lambert.

And to Yzak's horror, Emilio Lambert was right. How could he refuse? In the end, he wanted to ensure that Dearka got the fairest hearing possible. He could not risk refusing to help in outlining the blond's actions. If he did, there was a chance that the prosecuting viewpoint would be too narrow and the resulting evidence against Dearka would pile up more than if Yzak agreed to make clarifications with what he knew.

"I'll do it," Yzak intoned clearly. Lousie Leitner nodded her approval.

"Then you might as well make the boy stand against Elsman in court too," Lambert said to the satisfied-looking woman. "If he's the one with the best idea of what happened, then we'll need _him_ to pose a decent prosecution."

"What?"

"Representative Lambert—"

There was uproar from a number of the council members — Elsman, Amarfi and Canaver in particular. Durandal remained stationary at his seat, but called for quiet.

Yzak could not feel his fingers anymore, for his hands beneath the table were gripping his knees hard enough to leave bruises.

Lambert went on when peace was restored. "It's true that we are in the process of learning to understand the Naturals and show sympathy for their position," he stressed. "And it may be that Elsman wanted to help with such things, but the fact still remains that we are ZAFT. Not long ago, Elsman attempted to access the operating system of his machine, which was already confiscated and scheduled for deconstruction. _He is still a threat_, ladies and gentlemen. Suppose he still intends to oppose us? Both the Earth Forces _and_ the Three Ship Alliance were the cause of countless casualties and inconveniences among our ranks. Elsman has defected to join them and has not shown any sign of wishing to return to ZAFT, or to be forgiven. We must take this seriously. The Joule boy is our top candidate for a thorough analysis… _and_ a thorough prosecution should Elsman's motives prove dangerous. To deny that because you don't want to pit Joule against a friend of his is a bias that we can't afford to cater to."

The tension in the room intensified, humming like a violin string tuned to too high a frequency. Yzak feared his heart would stop.

How? How had he gone from wanting nothing but to defend Dearka to being the best candidate for Dearka's prosecution? Every face around the table was grim, but slowly becoming more resolute. Lambert had made his point, and whether or not all of them liked it, it seemed they would have to agree.

Durandal alone exuded calm. "It is a valid argument, Emilio. Very well — Yzak, as well as aiding in the report of offenses, you will take up Dearka's prosecution."

"I politely refuse," Yzak gritted at once.

"If the Council were to vote, Yzak, I believe you would see that refusing is not an option," said Durandal, harsh for the first time that meeting. "We may not like the decisions made in this Council room, but it is our duty to do what's best for the whole. Surely you knew that when you joined us."

Yzak dared not open his mouth to respond. At that moment, the desire to spring up and strike either Durandal or Lambert flooded his senses, but he could do nothing. He did not have his combat knife tucked snugly into the top of a standard white boot. He did not have a gun stowed at his belt. Instead, he had a long navy jacket and a golden badge of authority at his neck. He was not a soldier at present. He had agreed to support the Supreme Council.

He had done this to himself. He could pose no counter-argument or complaint.

"Then, that leaves the matter of Dearka's defense," said Andres weakly. "No matter his crimes, he must have someone to…."

"Yes," Chairman Durandal mused. "I believe it may be prudent to allow Dearka Elsman to pose his _own_ defense."

Leitner watched him closely. "Why, Chairman?"

Durandal's smile was close-lipped and mystifying. "It's quite simple. Suppose Dearka _does_ wish to re-enlist in ZAFT. If you were he, would you not want a chance to prove yourself before the Council, without the complication of an outside party that doesn't know you personally? Not to mention that allowing Dearka to speak for himself would be a better method by which we might judge his character…."

"No, he ought not defend himself alone," Kassim piped up suddenly. "There are too many risks in a decision like that. If he is innocent, he could flub up due to inexperience and send himself to the noose, for instance. Or, if he is guilty and wanted to charm us, he might succeed. There are a number of other scenarios possible as well. He ought to have some impartial party to assist him."

"Fine," Andres shot, rubbing at his eyes beneath his glasses. "Whom?"

Without warning, all eyes in the room turned to Yzak. Yzak stared back hollowly, choking back an ironic laugh. What else would they ask of him now?

Durandal smiled. "Well, Yzak, it seems the Council suspects you may have an answer to this dilemma also?"

…And all at once, he did. It sprang from some disconnected portion of his mind and rolled off his tongue as if of its own accord.

"Hahnenfuss," he exclaimed, before he realized what it was he was spouting. "Shiho Hahnenfuss."

There was a pause.

"My daughter?" Mariah asked incredulously. "Does she know anything about this incident? She only recently—"

"Your peace, Mariah," the chairman said, and Shiho's mother ceased her protests. "If Councilman Joule believes that a fellow ZAFT elite is best suited for the job, then I am ready to trust his judgment on the matter, as should be the rest of you. Are we settled on this subject?"

Yzak felt a grim fire of satisfaction warm him for a sliver of an instant, but it fled again when Tad Elsman raised his head.

"I've one question left, sir." Tad waited for the chairman's nod. "What penalty does my son face?"

Yzak closed his eyes to block out the sight of the man's hands trembling beneath the table.

It was to Louise Leitner that Durandal directed the question, seemingly unaware of the collective freeze throughout the room.

Leitner shuffled through a packet of files in front of her, emitting a low hum as she browsed what Yzak assumed to be a temporary list of the blond's offenses. "As it stands under Supreme Council legislation and ZAFT military regulation, crimes accrued call for punishment by nothing less than execution."

Yzak's last scrap of faith in serendipity disintegrated.


	7. PHASE 06

Yzak was sitting at the desk in his hotel room when the buzzer on his door interrupted the silence. He slumped over the polished wood surface and his hands flew to his temples.

It had barely been twelve hours since the Council meeting ended the evening before, and twice various committee members had interrupted Yzak with information about random proceedings. He hadn't managed to secure himself a decent night's sleep, and now his buzzer was sounding _again?_ The throb behind his eyes increased.

"Yzak?" came a muffled female voice from outside.

Yzak felt his stomach churn. Shiho Hahnenfuss, Dearka Elsman's chosen defense.

All at once, the things he had been trying to block out since his Council debut came charging back to the forefront of his mind. The paperwork on the desk before him blurred, no longer of any consequence, no longer worthy of providing a cheap distraction from that which drove a stake into his gut and made him ache with guilt and terror. He released a groan that he did not bother stifling, ignoring the knock that came after Shiho's persistent ringing of the buzzer.

"I heard that groan," Shiho said coolly. "Are you coming to the door?"

Not now…. He couldn't bear to let anxiety begin to eat at him again, at least not until he'd had enough sleep to think things over….

"I came on official orders. And I'm armed with a standard firearm." The statement from beyond his door was impassive. "If you continue to delay me in my duties, I can fire on the keypad to short out your locking mechanism and let myself in by force…."

Yzak moved to the door and flung it open with a bang.

"You have the patience of a rabbit in heat, Hahnenfuss." He made sure to scowl, even though doing so worsened his headache.

Shiho chose not to respond. Instead, she fixed him with a stare until he moved aside, and then she strode to his desk and plunked down a heavy volume that she'd been carrying under her arm. "Do you know what that is?"

Yzak examined the green and gold binding of the tome from where he still stood at his door.

Shiho didn't wait for him to hazard a guess. "It's the research I've been doing since oh-two-hundred hours this morning. Ali Kassim of the Council made a personal trip to the barracks directly after the meeting last night, to inform me that I'd need to familiarize myself with the Legislative branch of the PLANT Archives." Yzak took in her ice-cool exterior with little expression. "That branch is not here on Aprilius One; it's on October Four. I followed orders and immediately took a shuttle there and back. I had to find your new location this morning when I learned the Council had transferred you out of the barracks and into their hotel space. I've been up all night running around, and the only thing I've managed to learn is that I've been assigned to defend detainee Dearka Elsman at your proposal." Though her facial features barely shifted, Yzak could sense ire hot as magma. "I'm an elite mobile suit pilot; the battlefield is what I know best, not politics. You'd have had better luck requesting someone like Heine to do your dirty work if you wanted a multi-talented Red. But it doesn't matter now, does it?" Yzak waited. If she wanted to blow hot air, he would let her. He pursed his lips and narrowed his eyes while she ranted.

"Yzak Joule, if you don't tell me what's going on, I may gut you."

It was the first time Yzak had heard Shiho speak a threat, and the nonchalant manner in which she delivered it made the silver head wonder if he had cause to worry.

Yzak closed his door and made his way back into the room. Shiho claimed she had no head for politics, but she had given him cause to believe otherwise when they'd begun exchanging conversation. Had Yzak misjudged her potential? He looked again at the huge book atop his desk.

Impossible; he couldn't be wrong. Shiho must certainly be capable, even if she didn't believe it… no, she _had_ to be capable of acting as Dearka's defender, or everything would be lost.

"I really wish you'd say something." But there was no intonation suggesting that Shiho truly wanted to dissect an explanation. Her long night's work appeared to take its toll on her right there in his room; she plunked into Yzak's desk chair and removed a pair of glasses from her eyes. Yzak had not noticed that she was wearing them, and in the moment she paused to fold them neatly and tuck them into her breast pocket, Yzak ran an internal search for all the painful remarks that he could fire at her for being impatient, and for worsening his headache. But when he opened his mouth, no insults came out.

Instead, he found himself referring to their mess hall conversation. "What happened to your idea about acting like teammates? 'We don't have to be friends,' you said, but you wanted us to maintain some sort of connection. You thought it was inefficient and inappropriate for me to act alone. You wanted to know more about the Council." Yzak sank onto the corner of the bed he had not slept in, vaguely aware of the fact that Shiho had gone still in her chair. "So, now's your chance. Make good on all your fancy talk, Hahnenfuss." He wanted nothing more than to lie down and bury his face in the pillows, but he maintained his control.

"I did suggest that I might support you," Shiho said after a moment of reflection. "And I meant it. But I meant for the sake of ZAFT, not for your own personal gain. Trying so hard to ensure Dearka a defense makes me think your concern over the case comes from personal emotions, instead of out of a true desire to see justice. In your position, you should be accepting that your old teammate is a criminal."

Yzak did not know whether to be exasperated or amused. "You think emotions only _cripple_, Hahnenfuss?" He sneered. "What does that make you, then? An unfeeling killing machine? If there are others in ZAFT who think that way, it's no wonder the Naturals feel threatened by us."

Shiho colored. "You're changing the context. I'm talking about this trial, nothing more. It should be about the PLANTs and ZAFT, not just Dearka Elsman. If you only care about getting him cleared, and if you chose me because you thought another elite could _understand_ him enough to get him cleared, then I can't agree with your stance. This wasn't what I had in mind when I suggested I'd become your ally." She frowned, and Yzak nearly laughed at the realization that the only reason she might still agree to help him after such a proclamation was because the Council had already ordered her to.

"Then walk away right now, Hahnenfuss," he dared her, "because I can't claim not to care about Dearka's freedom, and I _also_ have a desire to see justice in the PLANTs. Your problem is that you can't fathom how a man can host a harmony of objectives at once while staying true to all of them. You're too narrow minded."

Shiho's lips formed a thin line from her spot at his desk. She scrutinized his paperweight, then the pen by its side, then the shiny wood surface. At last her eyes strayed to his paper documents with the official Council seal.

"I don't wish to argue," she said after an eternity, looking suddenly blank and demure again.

Yzak smiled bitterly to find himself proven correct. Shiho Hahnenfuss would submit to her orders. It was too easy, so _contemptible _the way she could fire herself up and radiate potential… only to snap back onto her puppet strings before she could spring free. But Yzak realized that this trait in her was the one he had been counting on. Infuriating though she was, Shiho was not a bad soldier or a bad person, and he needed her.

"I'll carry out this duty to the best of my ability. I'd like a thorough briefing first, however."

"Fair enough," Yzak said from the bed, after considering her for a further instant. He wondered what she was really like behind her rigid wall of protocol, but then dismissed the question. At least he had ensured that her talents would be at his disposal for the duration of the trial….

"The trial was scheduled for quite early in the morning in one week's time," he told her, "but Andres agreed to try to get it moved to an afternoon three days after that instead. If he succeeds, we'll have one week and three days."

"What, that soon?" Shiho exploded. "And on top of normal duty?"

Yzak swept his silvery bangs aside and motioned to a disc beside the computer. "I spent the first half of last night reviewing and further compiling a timeline of events as they took place, using field reports, ship logs, and personal accounts — video and audio included where available." Shiho slid the disc into the drive. "My own information is there as well. All of Elsman's actions, and his words in conversations with me between now and the time he was listed as MIA have been outlined, to the best of my ability, without bias, and with evidence when possible, as was ordered of me by the Council. Since the day I brought Dearka back, an evidence and research team has been working to double-check the claims in that document to prove that none of it is false. They'll check my additional references, but his betrayal is clear enough from the data they had before I got involved." Such words already tasted sour. "You'll have a tough time with the defense. Everything will move quickly once the Judicial Committee organizes itself in accordance with the new data. It's your job to help Dearka justify his actions so he doesn't get punished."

Shiho began to scroll through the file more quickly. "So, they had you compile evidence against your own friend. Who's running the actual prosecution?"

Yzak felt an iron clamp squeeze the beat from his heart. "I am."

Shiho faltered. She worked her jaw as if to express some response, then brushed a hand over the track pad and continued to scroll through the document instead. Her gaze was dark and intent. Yzak stared grimly at the palms of his hands. It was a long while before Shiho next spoke.

"If you're prosecuting… that means the two of us will have to act as opponents before the Council when it's time to present our cases."

"Brilliant deduction," Yzak snapped.

"I thought asking me to defend Dearka was like making an _alliance_ with me. Not setting us up to oppose each other."

"Again, your inability to comprehend things like the harmonious or _contradictory_ qualities of people's ideas and goals makes me rather sick. You're helping my cause by standing against me. For love of ZAFT — grasp the concept."

To Shiho's credit, she recovered quickly once she moved past her initial frown of skepticism. She took her glasses back out and began to scan the list of information in earnest. Yzak remained silent, examining her profile as she worked. He had not yet told her the worst part of the arrangement, of the chips that had been laid on the table. He had not told her that the gamble she would be making in agreeing to undertake this task was a gamble for a human life.

Shiho had one hand on the track pad and the other fisted in her long chestnut hair. Most of it had fallen loose from her ponytail and she twisted a chunk of strands aimlessly, squinting through her glasses at the text presented on the screen.

"Yzak," she said, just as the silver head had begun to contemplate allowing her to stay while he got back to work himself, "If I fail against you in court and Dearka is proven guilty of _all_ these listed crimes, his penalty is death."

So, she had scanned the contents of the document and weighed the accusations against what she had learned of punishment at the Legislative branch, and had come to the conclusion herself. Yzak forced himself to breath deeply before answering her.

"That's right, Hahnenfuss. He'll be executed in cold blood, and under ZAFT regulation and PLANT law, it will be nothing less than what he deserves." The voice that he spoke in sounded chillier, more ruthless to himself than his voice had ever seemed, even in times of great anger or vengeance.

Shiho Hahnenfuss did not turn around. "Knowing that, you still trust _me_ to take up Dearka's defense?" Yzak noted that this time, she didn't question his desire for Dearka to be freed.

"Don't be stupid, Hahnenfuss. You're still here in my room, aren't you?"

The brunette smiled grimly. "I won't be for much longer. It will seem far too suspicious for us to consult each other after this initial exchange period."

"Then make sure not to screw up after you leave."

There was a pause. Then Shiho took hold of her law book and rose. "I suppose this means I'll finally be meeting the Buster pilot I've heard so much about. But…." She hesitated.

"Spit it out and don't waste time."

Shiho placed her free hand on her hip. "I think he ought to hear about his sentence from you. _My_… sympathies… would seem largely detached and unconsoling in comparison to what you might say to him."

Yzak's heart skipped another beat. Go back to the holding chambers and face Dearka? Immediately, Yzak wanted to be sick. He had promised to stand by the blond until the end, but to go to him merely to tell him that he was to die, and that Yzak was to be the one raining the bullets down himself…. He must have made some small strangled noise, for Shiho spoke quickly.

"If it's too hard, I suppose I can certainly manage to—"

"No," Yzak said sharply. He leaned back on the bed for support, but his voice grew stronger. "No, Hahnenfuss. I myself will take that responsibility." He waited, heart thumping, and she moved toward the door.

They crossed gazes.

"See you at the trial, then," Shiho said.

— x —

Long before he gained clearance for a visit and stepped into the transport shuttle that would take him to Dearka, Yzak decided that he would not go in uniform. He shed the colored scarf, the navy pants, the sweeping jacket. All of it, stripped off, and then he showered and faced his closet. He still had to look presentable — he was a member of the Council, after all — but he didn't want to wear anything official. It would only link him to the system that had assigned Dearka his sentence. And so, for this grim and pivotal day in his military career in which he would tell his best friend that he'd chosen the side that condemned him, Yzak refused the association. He couldn't bear the thought of appearing before Dearka, a grim reaper in dark robes of Council. Or worse, in the blood red of ZAFT elite.

He had recently sent for his personal effects, and he now perused his alternate options. He selected a pair of khakis, a white collared button down, and a navy blue pullover sweater to wear atop the ensemble. He envied the female population for being able to waste hours getting dressed. Yzak would have given anything to postpone the inevitable for himself and for Dearka.

As it was, it took him five minutes. Fate drew closer quickly.

He denied himself the release of fidgeting on the transport shuttle.

He glared daggers at the guard outside the holding chamber when he was asked when the detainee would be "out of the way."

He stepped for the second time into Dearka's drab cell, every nerve in him alight with foreboding.

Dearka was standing. "I thought it might be you."

Yzak kept his face void of emotion. Dearka had predicted his arrival?How had Dearka been so sure that he would come? Yzak scanned the blond's figure, surprised to see that Dearka sported a plain white T-shirt and a pair of dark jeans. The bruises and scratches blushed only faintly across his skin now, and there was not a speck of dirt on him.

Dearka noticed Yzak's bafflement despite the attempt to hide it. "Apparently, the Chairman gave permission for me to get a hold of some of my old things. My dad sent for them. No one's beaten on me lately, either. Or, should I say… I haven't launched any attacks on other people first." Dearka's deeply tanned features split into a grin.

Yzak cleared his throat, taken aback, but not about to make a production of it. Instead, he chose to analyze Dearka's news. Had Dearka's treatment become kinder thanks to Durandal's quiet meddling? "I came to tell you that your trial is soon," he said.

Dearka was still grinning. "I figured."

Yzak's discomfort broke appearances at last. "You're acting funny, Elsman. Why the hell are you smiling like that?" Dearka's cheerful expression only grew, and Yzak felt his stomach respond with a jolt.

"Because I'm glad to see you. I've been so deprived of human contact lately that even a sourpuss like you is a welcome distraction. In fact, I think an Yzak Joule to keep things interesting is exactly what I've been waiting for."

Yzak stared for a moment, but an instant later a flush of anger and shame scorched his cheeks and he spun away, uncertain of the situation yet again. Dearka was glad to see him? The old, playful Dearka from the Le Creuset team shined through more than ever in that grin, but Yzak could not allow himself to cave to it. He was to be Dearka's condemner, and he needed to relate that news like a professional instead of dance around it, falling prey to the easy banter.

"Quit fucking around, Elsman. The Council has determined your sentence. You won't like it. I know_ I_ don't."

A pout. "Aw, Councilman Joule, don't be like that." Dearka reached over to tug at Yzak's sweater with two fingers, the picture of childish pleading, and Yzak lost his temper.

"Paws off me, Elsman." He spun around to swat Dearka's hand away. Dearka caught his wrist, chuckling. Yzak ignored the touch long enough to vent his spleen. "No matter what happens to you, you'll never grow up, will you? Are you _ever_ going to regret the things you've done?" He tried to wrench his hand from Dearka's grip when he was finished, but the blond refused to let go.

"So much drama," Dearka tisked, looking him over with an eye jokingly skeptical. "You're like a pop star in the limelight, throwing a temper tantrum for publicity."

Yzak was perplexed out of his anger for a glimmer of an instant. Why was Dearka acting so _strangely_?

Dearka finally dropped his wrist. "Maybe you're like Lacus Clyne. That might not be terrifically entertaining, though. Her songs are these boring ballads…. Personally, I think she'd have more listeners if she amped up the sound and wore a skimpier outfit. About the only one who never agreed with me on that was Nicol." Now Dearka was making a show of scratching his head in thought.

Yzak fumed. "Elsman, if you don't tell me what the hell you're on about…."

"See?" Dearka said. "You're a natural at the drama queen routine. Wait — make that a Coordinator." But suddenly Dearka's face was serious, and there was a flash of something hidden in his eyes as he finished the statement.

The meaning began to sink in as Yzak stood there fuming; as comprehension increased, his outrage diminished. He made sense of it incrementally. Why Dearka was acting so unnaturally. Why he'd changed the subject when Yzak had begun to speak about the Council. His mindless blathering about pop stars. Yzak's gaze lifted to meet that of his companion, and understanding coalesced there.

Dearka didn't want to hear about the trial. He was trying to waylay conversation about it. In his eyes materialized a plea: _Just a moment more, without having to know…._

Yzak stiffened, willing himself not to immediately cave to Dearka's unspoken request. Neither of them wanted to face it, but they'd _have_ to. There passed a moment of silence. Dearka, in contrast to the silver head's unease, appeared to relax; tension ran out of his shoulders upon recognition that his message had been understood. But did he think the quiet meant Yzak had agreed not to deal him the blow just yet? Yzak's lips pursed. He had delayed enough already, and every second of dragging it out would hurt Dearka _more_…. The blond made his way to the rickety chair with the missing rung and sank into it. Yzak watched him, half expecting to see Dearka revert back into the brooding, careless captive that he'd been the first time Yzak had paid him a visit.

But a smirk still played about the edges of Dearka's lips. "So, did you bring me anything good?"

"D-don't be dumb, Elsman," Yzak responded, caught off guard. "Like what?"

"Like… a snack. They only feed me ration bars." Now Dearka's smile was positively uninhibited. It quirked his whole mouth into a crescent that was somehow beautiful despite the dispirit that radiated in his body language. Yzak's insides churned.

"I swear you exist just to make me angry, Elsman." But anger was not what coursed through him.

"_Someone_ has to pose some sort of challenge to you. I mean, if they keep letting you climb the ladder so easily, you'll be Chairman next."

Yzak swallowed. What he felt was appreciation, perhaps for Dearka's humor after all the seriousness of his Council meetings. A longing for things to return to their norm. Desire for Dearka's safety.

Things that would never be again unless Yzak could manage some professionalism in the face of despair, some gumption in order to keep moving.

"Will you let me tell you your sentence now?" That Dearka had tried so hard to ease the tension only made Yzak feel guilty, helpless, less considerate in comparison. He wanted to get it over with, to go do something that would truly _help_ Dearka, like study more about court procedures. Like escape from the visceral effects Dearka's presence had on him, the emotions that tripped Yzak up and rendered him incompetent.

Dearka leaned back in his chair, and that smile… it shifted again, this time to something achingly glamorous. Resigned and sedate and arresting. "They're going to execute me, aren't they, Yzak?"

Shock slid like the blades of ice skates down Yzak's nervous system. Dearka had already guessed? Yzak had not prepared for anything like this.

He should have told Dearka the second the sentence had become official, not waited until Shiho Hahnenfuss had prodded him into it, not let Dearka banter him into procrastination…. How long, then, had Dearka been mulling over his own end here in captivity, with no one to confirm or deny that it was coming, or to sympathize? Yzak averted his eyes, while the headache from earlier spread again like an acid leak around his cranium.

"Yzak, are you all right?"

Yzak released a single hoarse laugh. All right? Here Dearka Elsman sat in lock-up, a carcass on a spit, waiting for the fire to be ignited beneath him and scorch him to hell, and he wanted to know if _Yzak_ was all right. The silver head went weak on his feet. Oh God, how had he managed to fail Dearka so badly?

"Maybe _you_ should take the chair." And suddenly Dearka's warm firm hands were guiding him over by the shoulders. Yzak allowed himself to be led. "You haven't slept," Dearka observed.

Yzak glared daggers at him, though the act took some effort. "Neither have you."

"Try sleeping on a concrete floor without a standard-issue sleeping bag."

"Try getting calls from the Council at four a.m. while you're busy figuring out how to save the life of a rebellious teammate." Yzak immediately snapped his mouth shut. The remark had been uncalled for, and he wished he hadn't said it, but a sharp tongue was his only savior when the rest of him went numb. And was the term _teammate_ even applicable any more?

Dearka sighed, and when Yzak glanced up, the only thing left on Dearka's face was apology, which was somehow worse than his too-consenting smile.

"It's a little ironic, isn't it?" the tanned male said.

Yzak dropped his head into his hands — pressed his fingers hard against the ridge of his scar to distract himself from feeling too much misery. "What is?"

"I've finally reached a place where I can see the big picture clearly," Dearka said, "and before I get to make anything of it, I could be dead, with no one to blame but myself." There came a dry little chuckle. "I fucked up, even after you agreed to make a defense for me."

"I won't be making your defense, Dearka," Yzak said, keeping his hands over his face and speaking to his palms to mask the tremor in his voice. He heard Dearka turn towards him. "I'll be running your prosecution." Something burning and wet hit his hand. His eyes stung and he blinked rapidly.

Dearka's response was a long time in coming, and when it came it was toneless. "So you're in charge of bringing the suit against me." It was not an open protest.

At that, the tears began to flow in earnest. Dearka's acceptance made it far too real. Yzak choked on his own breath and fought himself wildly. This was not the time to break down. He still had so much to do to try to make things right….

"Yzak, it's okay." Warm voice again suddenly, like taking off wet snowy clothes before a hearth. "You're on the Council now; things were bound to end up different than anyone expected. It's okay."

Yzak's shoulders were quaking with the effort it took to fend off his sobs. No, it wasn't okay. Why couldn't Dearka at least get angry — yell and accuse Yzak of failure the way anyone else would? The way he _himself_ wanted to? Why did Dearka have to be so understanding? Damn it, _damn it_….

Dearka's footsteps came closer, and shortly thereafter Yzak felt his silver hair brushed aside and his face lifted. He dropped his hands. "Wh—"

"Listen to me," Dearka said. "If you blame yourself, then this whole situation becomes even more of a waste. I understand the consequences of my actions, and for a long time now I've been ready to face them. You're a better soldier than I ever was, Yzak, and the PLANTs need you now to find the line between peace and another war. Maybe I'm not supposed to be part of that future. It doesn't matter." Dearka's words were firm. "You can't give up. You said that to me before, right? You can't dodge your responsibility by giving up, or even thinking for a second that you won't succeed."

Yzak jerked away from Dearka's hands. "If I take the floor against you, I'll be fighting your acquittal with all the strength I have, and you won't stand a chance!"

A flicker of that same fatalistic grin. "Obviously not. Tap into that vindictive righteousness of yours before a court and I'm a goner. It's not hard to see that."

"You idiot — that's not the p—" But Dearka had bent down to lay a chaste kiss on the crown of his head. Yzak froze, thunderstruck.

Dearka smirked when it became apparent that he was not going to be clouted for his insolence. "Don't say I never thanked you for anything, Joule."

Was this Dearka's goodbye?

For a moment Yzak's emotions went haywire. Then one rose up above the others, a power surge like a thruster being forced to maximum. He fixed Dearka with a black look and a furious crimson flush. "You just kissed me like some stupid girl, you jackass!"

The hint of amusement on Dearka's features fled at the statement. He seemed to realize that he'd forfeited his manliness for the next year and a half.

Or the rest of his remaining lifespan. Whichever came first. Yzak tried not to panic.

"Don't ever do that again, Elsman. _Ever_. Or I will rip your liver into indistinguishable ribbons."

Dearka swallowed visibly. "Right. Such close camaraderie is not appropriate between two men of military standing. Understood."

Then his lips twitched at the corners.

It was ludicrous. All of it.

Yzak would have snorted outright, if he didn't still have moisture collecting at his lashes. "I won't be back to see you," he said, at last fighting down his torrent of heartache to assume the military crispness that was natural and comforting. Had Dearka's affection calmed him? "Our interaction won't be tolerated again from now on. Someone else will be put in charge of your detainment. I shouldn't even be here today, but the Chairman allowed it specially, do you understand?" Dearka nodded, and Yzak thought again of the Council. Would any of them be as suspicious of his motives as Shiho? "I won't be going easy on you, Elsman."

Dearka rolled his shoulders and looked at the barred window on the door. "You're not the worst thing that could kill me, Yzak."

Yzak rose slowly, unable to reply. Dearka traced his path to the exit. There was no ceremony to be made of the departure. Nothing further to say until Dearka's fate was sealed for certain. Maybe there was hope, a light, something bright shining in their future that they could still grasp. Yzak inhaled and gripped the doorknob.

"Yzak," Dearka said. "It's your first time doing something official for the Supreme Council. Good luck."

Yzak battled back the ache that crushed him when he heard Dearka's words. "Thank you," he replied, although more for the sake of speaking to Dearka one more time than for acknowledging his own potential. He swung the door open and left at a brisk clip, stiff with purpose. The guard called something to him, but Yzak didn't hear it. He shot for the double arches and the anonymity of the crowded pedestrian walkway.

The moisture was back in his eyes.

* * *

_Author Note: I think my true writer colors show through in this chapter, guys. (cough)angst and questionable moments of intimacy(cough)_

_No, but seriously, wanna know something hysterical? Originally in this chapter, I had a hidden camera/microphone in Dearka's cell. Dearka wasn't going to bother mentioning it when Yzak showed up, but when Yzak started badmouthing the Council's decisions, well… Dearka didn't want Yzak to get in trouble when the people on the other side of the camera heard him. So there was this whole scene where Dearka was trying to convey that they were being monitored, without mentioning it outright, you know? Hilarity ensued. Yzak got pissed, but eventually he figured out what was going on. As for who would have installed the camera and been watching on the other end… I figure it would have been Durandal. Yeah, in my head he's THAT creepy. _

_Now you can probably see why I cut the whole scene and rearranged things. Mass hilarity (bordering on CRACK) doesn't really fit into this fanfic. I think my idea might work better in its own little oneshot some day. Ahahaha._

_Drop a review! This chapter was more emotional and less focused on politics than the others, so I'd like to know how I did. Personally, I'm thinking it's not my best chapter somehow, but I'll let you people tell me._


	8. PHASE 07

_A/N: Apologies for taking so long on the update. Really. When I posted this chapter, I realised that I'd forgotten how much I loved writing this story. There are gaps to fill in, and damn it, I'm not leaving them open when I took so long to think about the space between SEED and SEED Destiny! Everyone can thank _**Madam Malia **_for recently leaving me the review that moved me to action this time around. And _**anja-chan**_, who sent her my way. Go read _**anja-chan**_'s Dearka/Yzak stuff, too. It's good. :)_

* * *

The date for the trial had been postponed, which meant an extended period to do research at the library's Legislative branch. Apparently, Yzak had not been the only one to contact the Council to beg for an extension; Shiho's mother had also passed on a request from her daughter for more time. The next soonest date the Council had available was a mighty stretch farther off than Yzak had anticipated, however — a month away — and Yzak did not know whether to be pleased or irked by the casting aside of Dearka's trial. Canaver had transferred to the MacArthur, and news came back periodically on how negotiations were proceeding. Tensions rode high. The Earth Forces were not ready to bend. There wasn't time for prisoners.

The first time Yzak wandered across Shiho in the midst of his research, the two of them halted cold and met each other's eyes, mortified. It lasted only a second. Yzak scanned the ceilings for cameras and Shiho rotated three hundred sixty degrees to search the floor for other personnel. They couldn't risk getting seen in contact, even if it was an accident. The slightest suspicion that they might be scheming after a common goal in secret could further endanger Dearka's life. With an imperceptible nod, Shiho immediately vacated the aisle of books Yzak wanted to browse.

The second time they spied each other — a week or so later — it was from distant ends of an aisle. They rounded their respective corners at the same moment from opposite sides, both intent on picking up volumes from the same section. Rather than stop in shock as they noticed each other, they silently concluded that it would appear smoother to continue walking down the aisle uninterrupted, as if they happened to have chosen to take the same detour to somewhere else and were passing each other out of coincidence.

As they brushed shoulders, Yzak hissed from lips that barely moved. "Can't you research court procedure somewhere else, Hahnenfuss?"

Shiho was already in his review mirror, headed to the spot where he'd come from, and she did not turn back. "You can't blame this on me, Joule." She murmured, equally covert.

Yzak retreated to another shelf of books, fuming. If anyone were to grow suspicious that they were working together to free Dearka… it would all be over.

The third time he found himself in Shiho's presence, he picked up the sound of her voice long before he saw her. She was whispering aloud and her tone carried through the musty quiet, so, from behind a distant shelf, Yzak lifted a book to peer through the gap toward the noise.

She was positioned at a table, her front toward him. Her hair swung freely, brushing the oaken surface, pooling messily about the pages of a volume she had spread before her. Her uniform drooped at her neck; it lay unclasped at the collar. Yzak crinkled his nose. Her appearance was careless, far more disheveled than he would have expected of Shiho Hahnenfuss. She was talking to two other ZAFT reds, both with their backs facing Yzak's direction.

There was no mistaking the one with the citrus-orange hair.

"Maybe he thought he didn't have a choice," Heine was saying, waggling his finger while Shiho gripped the underside of her chair. "If _your_ machine went down at the feet of a ship like that and not a day ago you'd seen your own teammate's mobile suit sliced through the cockpit by the Strike — _death_, and of a comrade, Shiho; there's nothing like death on a battlefield to short-circuit a soldier's thought process — what would _you_ do?"

"I still wouldn't surrender to the enemy so quickly," she said. Yzak could not tell whether she meant it or had simply said it out of a desire to prove as irritating to Heine as Heine was to her. Annoyance sparked in her eyes; it was obvious that Shiho would have preferred to work alone, but, like the perfect soldier she was, she adhered strictly to protocol and showed no open signs of disrespect. "The legged ship had been forced to make an emergency landing. It was in no condition to waste firepower on the Buster while the Buster was grounded. It probably only aimed its guns to protect itself in case the Buster fired first. Anyone condemning Dearka could use this incident as an argument against his judgment. Whether or not he was still in a state of disorder due to the Blitz pilot's death won't make any difference to them."

"Don't be such a sour lemon," Heine laughed. "Where's your sense of faith?"

Yzak would have sniggered at Shiho's predicament if it hadn't been painfully obvious to him that — since Heine was there — she must have dragged in outside help against regulations. He held back the urge to thunder forward and demand where she had gotten clearance to bring Westenfluss into the fray. If she had done so without permission… if she was jeopardizing Dearka's chances of a good defense because she was too incompetent to form a solid defense by herself….

Yzak's gaze drifted to the third ZAFT red, who had waited his turn to speak and was now smoothing over the edgy whispers of the other two.

"You're also forgetting to see the situation from the Naturals' point of view." The boy had fine blond hair that reached his shoulders.

Yzak gaped. His red uniform…. It had been hard to tell from behind, but at once Yzak noticed that he was not sporting the attire of an elite pilot. It was the uniform of ZAFT Academy. Red still meant the cream of the crop, but for an Academy student to be granted access to the PLANT Legislative branch….

The boy went on. "Even if the Archangel would not normally have bothered to threaten a fallen mobile suit, this battle was different. Their Strike was engaged beyond escape, they'd been shot down, and moments after the Buster pilot left his cockpit with his hands up, a pilot of theirs lost his life to our Aegis. I've reviewed the tapes; it was a jet flier. The situation had escalated _beyond control_, and the Earth Forces were desperate. They might have done anything. Perhaps the Buster pilot was aware of the heightened danger. Any other time, he might have chosen to continue fighting despite the risk rather than to surrender, but in _this_ situation, surrender was instinctual — to preserve his existence. He can't be branded a coward or a traitor for that. Not at the PLANTs, anyway. We're not trying to breed disposable soldiers."

Without ado, Yzak slipped out from behind his bookshelf and made his way to another, in hopes of further identifying the blond speaker. What the hell was Shiho doing, consulting someone that was still at Academy level? He bit back a growl. And Heine Westenfluss, for that matter. That secretly smug, happy-go-lucky son of a bitch. Yzak found himself a better vantage point. He busied himself with a book, but peered discreetly around from the end of a row.

"Fair enough, but we ought not to say he did it solely 'to preserve his existence.'" Heine's mouth turned down at the corners. "If we want to defend Dearka against the current members of Council, we'll need to emphasize his tendency toward peace, his ultimate decision to stop the fighting on both sides. It makes him sound better if we say he surrendered because he felt instinctually that tensions would rise between ZAFT and the Earth Alliance were he to continue." Heine shrugged, "And so… he gave himself up, without knowing what would become of him or his machine. A grand sacrifice for the cause, no?" His gestures lacked ceremony, but his eyes were hard and bright as jade.

The blond boy remained professional and spoke fluidly. "'To choose to do nothing in times of crisis is exceedingly difficult, but is ultimately wiser than to act — and act foolishly — where open conflict provokes worse discord.' That's what Gil always says."

Heine said, "You would quote the Chairman until you turned blue instead of waiting to become a Red, wouldn't you, Rey," and Yzak fumbled with the book he'd been pretending to read. The cover flapped and the pages blurred with a fanning sound.

_Gil?!_

His slip-up had not gone unnoticed. Neither of the two males seemed wary of Yzak's presence, but from his new position behind Shiho's left shoulder, he saw her stiffen. Her head turned a miniscule degree in his direction, and Yzak knew her instinct told her it was he who occupied the space she couldn't see. She didn't dare turn around, but her body language said it all.

_Get the hell out of this vicinity._

Even if it was only his imagination, Yzak knew it was imperative to follow through. He didn't yet know if he could trust Durandal, didn't know if Durandal trusted _him_. Allowing the Academy student — Rey, had Heine said? — to catch sight of him at the wrong time was too risky. Yzak found it difficult to believe that Rey could be reporting directly to the Chairman, but what if he were? What if the Chairman had sent him down to work with and monitor Shiho Hahnenfuss, to make sure that she and Yzak had no contact with one another?

Yzak returned his book to the shelf and retreated. He couldn't focus enough to put the pieces together any more.

He made his way to the mobile suit docking area, stopping only to retrieve his flight suit.

"I want access to the pre-production model ZAKU," he barked at the first officer with the authority to grant him clearance.

He was led into a garage behind the row of garages used for everyday operation. The soldier that was leading him punched in the access code, and the ridged doors slid aside with a thunderous clatter. "It's called the ZGMF-999A, sir — ZAKU Mass Production Trial Type. ZAKU stands for ZAFT Armed Keeper of Unity."

Yzak stared up at the suit before him. Keeper of Unity…. Weren't they already united? "List me its main armaments," he demanded.

"Er, the railguns you see mounted at the hips there, two high frequency blade tomahawks…. That's really all, sir, but it is equipped with Phase Shift armor."

This piqued Yzak's interest. So, the steely grey hide of this machine would turn colors when activated… rather like the stolen Duel, and rather _un_like anything ZAFT had successfully mass-produced before. Durandal had told him the ZAKU would be released for use… but he had _also _told Yzak that the Duel would be destroyed because it took advantage of Natural technology. What the hell was in the Chairman's head? Yzak glared up at the mobile suit, arms akimbo. Well, he was a member of Council now, on the National Defense Committee, no less. He would see to it that ZAFT made up its mind about using Earth Alliance technology before this model was released across the PLANTs, or he would kill himself trying. To be so bloody hypocritical….

Yzak moved slowly around the base of the machine. But was Durandal really doing anything wrong when considering the prospects of the ZAKU? The truth was, nothing could stand up to weapons like the X-Numbers, and unless ZAFT could build up its power, create something that would match the Naturals, should more fighting come barreling down from the horizon… wasn't it better to be prepared? If they had the power, why not put it to good use?

"Arrgh!" His growl of frustration earned him a look of concern from the officer that had escorted him. Yzak shot him a withering glare. "Is there anything else I should know? Don't leave a single thing out."

The man hesitated. "You're sure you've got the clearance to—"

"Do you see this gold mark of Council authority I'm wearing? I've got permission from the Chairman to take my pick of mobile suits. Give me every piece of god damned classified information on this one, or I swear I'll have your job by dinner time!"

The officer did not look pleased. "It's got an ultracompact nuclear fission reactor, sir."

Yzak's blood ran cold. "Nuclear powered?" he cried, turning back to the machine in disbelief. "Then it's got to be equipped with an N-Jammer Canceller!"

_They'll use the technology of the Earth Forces to create newer, better models… this time made for Coordinator pilots. Like the Freedom… or the Justice… only mass produced…._

Dearka's prediction wasn't a prediction at all. ZAFT had already made the prognosis a reality.

"What the hell are they thinking?" Yzak erupted. "After the destruction caused by the Freedom and the Justice? And what if one of these things fell into the wrong hands? The Naturals could use the technology to disable all the N-Jammers that ZAFT installed on Earth to block their weapons and resources! They'd gain back their nuclear capabilities!"

The other man simply shrugged his lack of knowledge on the matter. Then, rather belatedly, he took note of the flight suit draped over Yzak's arm, and horror seemed to crawl across his features as if he predicted and feared what Yzak would request next.

"Get me the data I need to launch," Yzak said.

Protests flew thick and fast. "H-hold on a moment, sir, this machine isn't cleared for any sort of test flight in space. We still need permission from the—" But Yzak had already made a bolt for the ascension line. He tossed his flight suit on the ground — no time for it if he was going to face opposition. Hooking his foot onto the metal bar, he gave the cable a tug and rose to meet the dark hole of the cockpit. A smug grin alighted on his lips as the man below began raising the alarm. Did he think he'd be able to stop an elite pilot from doing as he pleased?

Yzak powered up the ZAKU. The Phase Shift armor engaged. He peered out the monitor at one of the suit's arms. ZAFT Armed Keeper of Unity… in ghastly bright yellow. What he wouldn't give to have restrictions set down upon the colors a mobile suit could acceptably be painted.

He punched the radio button. "This is Yzak Joule, proceeding to the launch deck in the ZGMF-999A Trial Type. Requesting clearance to head outside the PLANT."

There was a burst of white noise, a couple of shouts, and a voice that told him — as expected — that his clearance was denied. Yzak set his hand down on the controls and smirked humorlessly. Ah well, at least he'd been polite about it.

The ZAKU moved forward, and Yzak immediately felt the difference in its bulk and weight. He tested the rotation in its leg joints. Applied pressure to the thruster and lifted a few meters off the ground. There was a clamor from below, and he checked his monitors. Ground personnel not far enough out of the way yet to avoid a partial wave from his heat blast. He had no sympathy. He'd made it clear he was launching; if they swarmed his feet, he could not be blamed.

Nevertheless, he was excruciatingly careful not to cause any real casualties.

Yzak's two hands tangoed over the pull-out keyboard, programming rapidly to calibrate the machine to his basic needs. It was no Duel. For a glimmer of an instant, Yzak found himself aching for the mobile suit that had become a part of him.

Ten days earlier, the Duel had been deconstructed. He'd watched them detach the Assault Shroud and carry it away in chunks.

He took a look at the stats on the screen that graphed the power levels of the ZAKU. Off the normal charts — yet completely standard for a system that was nuclear-based, Yzak realized. The pilot of such a machine would never have to worry about depleting energy on the battlefield, about his Phase Shift shutting down mid-conflict and leaving him defenseless. So… was this what it had felt like when Athrun Zala had waltzed off with the Justice?

Yzak snorted. This was no Justice either, but it didn't matter. Yzak was no Athrun Zala, and, for the first time, this did not bite at Yzak in some deep, suppressed corner of his consciousness. He thought of Heine Westenfluss, a veritable ace stuck fighting the secondary battle. He'd been made a member of FAITH. In the end, all that mattered was the pilot… and Yzak was going to make sure that he could pilot a ZAKU without a hitch.

He exited the garage and began stepping fluidly between rows of other mobile suits and swerving transport vehicles.

His radio barked again. "Joule, do you copy? Cease the movement of that machine at once! The only person that has permission to pilot it at this stage of production is—" But there came more static, more shouting, more confusion of signals.

Yzak continued on his course. He was nearly at the launching deck. His blood pounded; it was a tremendous relief of tension for him to be seated at the controls of a mobile suit, and not in a Council chair. He had no intention of relinquishing his Council position before he had a chance to take advantage of it, but he also refused to let his pilot skills go rusty. He was still a ZAFT elite, and damned if he wouldn't take a joy ride to prove it. Politics and war maneuvering… they had to work together. He stopped to let a mobile command truck putter by and fingered the collar of his red uniform, which he'd chosen to wear that day over the billowing navy blue jacket….

"Stand aside," he said to the crew milling about the launch pad. "Prepare to send out this machine immediately."

"I think not, Joule — that's as far as you'll go." Yzak's radio connection boomed, dominated by a voice as clear and chill as outer space. "Though I must give you credit for getting that far."

Yzak didn't miss a beat, but an explosion of curse words lay in wait beneath the volcano of his outward compliance. He halted his machine. "Commander Lambert."

"That's right, _Commander_ Lambert. Did you forget I hold _that_ position as well as the one on the Council? I spend most of my time scattered about this very docking arena, and I didn't miss a moment of your stunning display of misconduct." The man's voice was light and dangerous. "The only one with clearance to test out that machine is _me_, and you will return it to its place of rest within the next minute or I will strip you of your rank and privileges, is that absolutely clear?"

Yzak went dizzy with disbelief. Lambert, the only man with rights to pilot the Trial Type ZAKU? He tried to imagine such a ruthless and bigoted man with access to a suit that had a Canceller. Such power, in hands that Yzak did not approve of….

He spoke steadily into the microphone, gritting his teeth. "Understood, sir. I'll bring it back in."

When he zipped from the line to the ground moments later, Emilio Lambert was waiting for him, his face purple with rage beneath bushy eyebrows.

— x —

"Yes, but Yzak, such conduct was unacceptable."

Yzak whirled away in aggravation. "Chairman Durandal, he threatened to deny me access to every mobile suit on Aprilius One!" He was pushing his luck to a perilous degree, he knew, but after what had occurred….

"He could not have done so without my explicit permission. A soldier of your caliber ought to have known that." Durandal leaned back in his desk chair, and Yzak chose to let his gaze skip around the man's office rather than meet the accusing eyes. "You threatened him back when it was you in the wrong, and after that…. You don't honestly expect to be granted pardon?" Durandal's tone was incredulous, as if he pitied Yzak for being naïve.

Damn it, Yzak had never expected his act of recklessness to land him an audience with the Chairman. He ached to flee the room, but there was no chance that he would retreat without assuring himself that he would still be allowed to pilot a machine. Any machine. Even if he had to start from the worst machine up. He returned to attention, hands locked behind his back, face stony.

"Yzak," Durandal asked, now with the hint of a grin ghosting his features, "What is it that draws you to the operation of a mobile suit? Why not take a role at the command information center, or working with a team of strategists, or anything else but what it is you've volunteered with ZAFT to do?"

Yzak had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from sneering as if the man were daft. "I had the ability," he exclaimed.

Early on at the Academy, in his days at December City, he'd taken a series of exams and run a multitude of simulations that had proven his talent was on the battlefield. There had never been any question that Yzak would become a pilot. His duty had always been to serve the PLANTs, and to best accomplish that goal, he chose to make use of the talent he possessed. Wasn't that the simple duty of _every_ Coordinator?

Durandal monitored him from beneath his bangs. "And are you content with your position as an elite Red?"

"Contentedness has nothing to do with it," Yzak answered, perhaps a bit too harshly. He cleared his throat in apology.

The Chairman mused with his hands folded atop his desk. "You pilot mobile suits with superior talent, you have enough political intelligence to take part in running the Council, and you display a tendency to think single-mindedly for the sake of pursuing a course of action when you wish to have something accomplished."

Yzak's eyes narrowed slightly. What was the Chairman digging at?

"A formidable combination of traits, don't you agree?" The man's gaze probed him insistently. "And one perhaps not suited to the position you currently hold with ZAFT."

Yzak didn't dare move. Was the Chairman accusing him of parading traits that were unfit for a soldier? Had he just been marked as exhibiting some quality that would make others suspect he had become dissatisfied with ZAFT? That he might defect and become a traitor? Yzak bit the inside of his lip again. This couldn't possibly be because he'd expressed an interest in Dearka's wellbeing before the trial date had been set, could it? His thoughts meandered suddenly to the blond. He hadn't seen Dearka in nearly a month….

"If you were given more power, Yzak Joule, what would you do with it?"

The question called him back to matters at hand. Or rather, dragged him bodily.

"Power?" Yzak mulled over the inquiry. More power? With power came responsibility, control, respect. Peril and weariness and stress. And yet, with power….

He thought of Junius Seven. Families, women and children raised to cultivate food to expand the agricultural independence of the PLANTs. Sweating, striving, forging ahead against the limits of cold, dark outer space to provide Coordinator kind with its basic edible necessities. He thought of the Bloody Valentine Tragedy that ended all that, the atrocity of the massacre. Not one Coordinator had escaped the blow caused by such barbarism and calamity. He thought of Nicol Amarfi, of musical notes above a chorus of military clamor the day they'd docked at Gibraltar, and there'd been a piano upon which to play. If only Nicol had lived to see another concert, Yzak would have attended this time. If only Junius Seven weren't a cold ruin adrift in the Debris Belt. He knew the past could not change… but the future was still moldable. He wanted Coordinators to grow and expand their families, to fly higher and live longer. He wanted the cemetery for their dead to lie still, to feel quiet and reverential, not to remain active, pockmarked more and more with newly dug holes. He wanted his mother's freedom. Dearka's life. A carefree existence for Tad Elsman's grandchildren.

With more power in his hands, could Yzak better achieve such goals? He might push toward the future he wanted for Coordinator kind, perhaps without so much opposition and strife. He might accept the weight of more power if it meant peace on the PLANTs.

But the fact still remained that the things Yzak would do with additional power… were the same things he was already trying to accomplish. Clearing Dearka. Maintaining the safety of the PLANTs. He had to take smaller steps first, or he would risk falling in over his head. Would power change the hoops he had to jump through to climb the steps to success? Make the path any easier?

Yzak doubted it. On too many levels, power was inarguably out of his hands, no matter how much of it he sought to obtain at present. He could not control the sentiments of the Earth Alliance. He could not change the legislative laws that sentenced Dearka Elsman to death for his treachery. Yzak's eyebrows met in a frown. Then… was power merely a façade? Or worse — something more dangerous than helpful, an incendiary flame that provoked discord while achieving nothing truly worthwhile? Should he chose to _ignore_ the quest for more power indefinitely, and try to accomplish his goals from ground level? Where was the balance?

Yzak looked Durandal in the face, uncertain of all but one point. "I don't believe I'd do many things differently with more power right now, sir."

For a split second, the Chairman appeared jolted. A flicker of unrest passed over his features faster than a meteor toward Earth, and then it dissipated. In its place was grim dissatisfaction. "I'm afraid that is the wrong answer, Yzak," he said.

Indignation blazed in Yzak's blood. What the hell was going on behind the scenes of this man's delicate charade? The _wrong answer? _The question had not merited a response that fit the definition of right or wrong! Durandal couldn't be trusted, not with tricks like this… could he?

"You are dismissed." The Chairman waved him out.

Yzak faltered, flabbergasted. "But Lambert's accusations? His revoke of my access to the hangar?"

Durandal was already rifling through files on his computer screen. "All will be voided; Emilio will be placated."

An alarming mood of disquiet crept about the room as Yzak detected something chill in Durandal's voice. He couldn't find the words to express either gratitude or relief. He saluted swiftly and left the office.

Outside the door, Yzak found his breathing had gone choppy and unnatural. What had the Chairman been thinking, and what were his plans for Yzak? It seemed easy, too easy, to go back to the Council, back to composing Dearka's prosecution, without being punished for his test run in the ZAKU. And the talk of power…. Yzak shivered.

He returned at once to his room to rest, turning down his sheets mechanically.

Within a matter of days, the trial would commence. He would face off against Dearka, and against Shiho, who by now would have acquired the skills she needed to pose a decent defense….

Yzak turned out his lights, and dreamed of blue and orange mobile suits.


End file.
